


Feel Again

by ThePinkFizz



Series: Septiplier has come to Hogwarts [4]
Category: Harry Potter (all media types), Jacksepticeye (YouTuber RPF), Markiplier (Youtuber RPF), Video Blogging (RPF)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe-Hogwarts, Angst, Arguing, Beauxbatons, Bitterness, Black Lake, Breaking Up & Making Up, Confessions, Dragons, Durmstrang, Emotional Hurt, Fighting, Hufflepuff!Mark, I could honestly write a whole page of tags so let's just move on, Jack!POV, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark is Hogwart's champion (sorry spoliers), Mark!POV, Merpeople, Physical hurt, Possible smut, Seperation, Triwizard Tournament, WHOLE LOTTA ANGST!, Yule Ball, maze, nerdy!Mark, only three champions, reconcililation, slytherin!Jack, three tasks, troublemaker!Jack, work with me here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8754619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePinkFizz/pseuds/ThePinkFizz
Summary: It hasn’t been long since the breakup, but it feels like it’s been ages. And you know what they say about people who are angry; they do stupid things. Mark makes maybe one of the stupidest decisions of his life (aside from that *ahem* “thing” with Jack) and enters the Triwizard Tournament. Maybe out of grief. Mostly out of anger. Somewhat to show Jack that he didn’t need him and could move on. But maybe the idea of sudden and certain death for the Hufflepuff is all it takes to push Jack over the edge and confess his feelings. But the real question is: will it be too late? Ladies and gentlemen, hang onto your hats, and welcome to the greatest magical event of the year: the Triwizard Tournament.





	1. Should've never said that word love

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah guys, sorry this has taken so long. It’s definitely going to be a long-ass fic, so be prepared for that (when I say long maybe 10 chapters tops if I can come up with that much haha.) But anyway, this is going to be busted up into chapters, so it’s not going to be one-stop shopping like the rest of this series. You have been warned. Um, so yeah, this fic has taken A LOT of thought. I’ve been picking my brain for weeks trying to decide what to write. But I have a feeling this fic is destined for greatness! This fic will most likely be the last in this storyline, but I’ll write other HP Septipliers with these lovelies, just not following this particular storyline. Hope that makes sense. :) But anywho, I like to give credit where credit is due and the idea for this fic (for the Triwizard Tournament) was suggested by the lovely ReviChan. Thanks, darling, hope you like it. :D

His lips were chapped and faded. There were purple circles under his eyes and overgrown black stubble curled off the edges of his chin and jawline. He trudged along across the courtyard, hunching his shoulders as a particularly violent gust of wind screamed by. He hadn’t slept in days and every waking moment was agony.

He couldn’t see anything behind his tired eyes but the look on Jack’s face when that word-that horrible, disgusting word-had left his lips. His heart ached desperately for some sort of contact with the blue-eyed boy. Something. Anything. But he received nothing. He felt cold and empty. Nothing seemed to matter to him anymore.

He found himself falling behind in his schoolwork and shutting his friends out. Nothing was the same anymore. And he feared it never would be again. Every second that he spent without Jack was like slowly drowning. He felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper and he just couldn’t keep his head above the waves much longer.

He desperately wanted Jack’s forgiveness, but he knew that he couldn’t have it. What could he possibly say to fix this? There was nothing. And he knew he deserved that. Everything he had said was cruel and uncalled for.

Maybe…maybe Jack was right. Maybe he had been pressuring him. Had he gotten carried away?

Mark shook his head, tightening his cloak around him as he hurried to get inside.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

He knew he was going to be late, so he hurried to get to the third-floor corridor and raced up the spiral stairs. He allowed himself a breath when he got to the top and entered the round room. It was always a lot to take in. Every time you looked at it, it was like you were seeing it for the first time. There was a mishmash of tables crowded on steps with flamboyant armchairs dusted in doilies and tassels with lamps upon the tabletops that had wisps of red light ebbing from within the shades, clouding the room in a light haze of red smoke.

 

He walked forward, going to claim his seat across from Neville when Professor Trelawney stopped him.

_"Dear boy…"_

 

She smiled, clasping her hands.

_"The constellations are realigning, and with that we shall sit with new partners in the hopes of forming new relationships. Please, take you seat."_

 

She gestured to an armchair up a few rows from the main floor. And Mark gulped. There was a familiar Slytherin sitting there, the sleeves of his robe rolled up, a slender hand running through locks of green.

Mark took a deep breath and slowly walked up the steps.

 

He sat his bag down next to the chair and took his seat. He avoided eye contact at all costs. Actually, he avoided a _ny_ contact at all costs. He reached down, pulling his divination textbook out of his bag. When he looked back up, he nearly jumped out of the chair. Jack was giving him a cool glare out from underneath hooded eyelids. Mark made it a point not to say anything. He looked back down, opening up the book.

_"Not gonna say anything?"_

 

Mark kept his mouth shut.

_"Pity."_

 

Mark refrained from slamming his fist down on the clothed table. He instead placed his open palm down, smoothing out a wrinkle.

 

"What would you like me to say?"

 

His voice was quiet, but edged.

_"How about 'I love you.'"_

 

Mark's gaze snapped up, his eyes blazing. He bit down on his lip so hard he drew blood. He looked away, Professor Trelawney had started talking, welcoming them all to class, and explaining that they were going to be performing tea leaf readings today. She came around and filled the array of tea cups placed on the tables with scalding liquid with a flick of her wand.

 

Mark glared at Jack over the rim of his cup as he emptied it of its contents. He all but slammed it down on the saucer as he pushed it across the table to the Slytherin. Mark picked up Jack's cup, looking tentatively at the pattern of black dots on the bottom of the porcelain. He squinted his eyes.

 

"I…I see…a…uh…"

 

He began frantically flipping through the pages of his textbook, running down the pictures printed within it with the tip of his index finger.

 

"It…it looks like…um…a closed hand."

 

Jack looked up from his own textbook, a cruel smile twitching at the edge of his lips.

_"An argument. Been there, done that."_

 

"Well…maybe it's not…maybe it's something else…"

 

Mark felt like he was sweating, he was stuttering, unsure of every move he made. Jack leaned forward on his elbows.

_"Well, I'll tell you what I see then."_

 

He picked up Mark's cup, gave it a glance and set it down roughly so that it rattled against the saucer.

_"I see a pair of bones."_

 

Mark's brows furrowed.

 

"That's…a disagreement between friends…but…that…"

 

Jack's cruel smile grew.

_"That's the odd thing. Because we're not friends, are we Mark?"_

 

He leaned back in his chair.

Mark took several breaths; it was all he could do not to spontaneously combust.

 

"Jack…look…we've never…talked about what happened…"

_"There’s_ nothing _to talk about."_

 

"But there is-"

 

Jack leaned across the table, snarling.

_"Just read the fuckin' leaves!"_

 

Mark shrunk back in his chair, picking the cup back up, staring at it long and hard. His brows turned inward, the corners of his mouth turning down. For a moment, he seemed to peak the Slytherin's interest.

_"Well?"_

 

Mark set the cup down, looking forlorn.

 

"It's…a unicorn…"

 

He sat there for a moment, unmoving, unbeknownst tears sliding down his cheeks as Jack's gaze softened momentarily. Then Mark abruptly stood, shoving his book into his bag. He rattled the china by bumping the table, mumbling.

 

"I have to go."

 

 Jack's eyes followed him for a moment as the Hufflepuff went down the steps and disappeared from sight. Jack sat a moment before pulling the yellow flowered cup across the table, looking into it. He looked down at his textbook, turning pages before he found the entry.

 

** THE UNICORN **

 

Something lost for good

 

Jack placed the cup back on the saucer, looking at the empty chair in front of him. He closed his eyes, sighing as he leaned back in the chair. His voice was barely audible as he spoke.

_"What have I done?"_

_…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………._

Mark rushed down the steps from the divination classroom, nearly tripping and falling several times. He pushed his way through the throngs of students who were moving to their next class period, wiping roughly at his nose and eyes.

 

He hurried down the kitchen corridor, stopping at a stack of barrels. He tapped, middle of the second row, two from the bottom, the tune to _"Helga Hufflepuff"_ as he used his free hand to wipe at his runny nose again. The concealed doorway snapped open and Mark ducked into the earthy passageway, still wiping at his face as he entered the common room, which was reminiscent of a badger's set.

 

The low, round windows cast late-morning sun into the room across the yellows and blacks and honey-coloured wood. He rushed towards his room to avoid being asked how he was doing by the few Hufflepuffs scattered around the room, for it seemed everyone in the whole bloody school knew of his estrangement with Jack.

 

Fern and ivy tendrils brushed the top of his head as he swooped under the archway and crashed through his door. He flung his bag onto the floor, subsequently throwing himself down onto his patchwork bedspread, burying his head underneath his pillow as to muffle his strained cries.

 

When the door opened later, Mark muttered a few things that shall not be reiterated to said opener.

_"Not very friendly. What's got your wand in a knot? You dashed out of divination like the end of your_

_broom was on fire."_

 

Cedric sat down on his bed, opposite from Mark's, running a hand through his light-coloured curls. Mark barely peaked his head out from underneath the pillow, his eyes and face red. Cedric's face went slack for a moment. He sat closer to the edge of his bed, leaning his forearms onto his knees.

_"Is this about Jack?"_

 

Mark grumbled, almost in a whiny tone.

 

"No!"

 

He slowly took the pillow off his head, sitting up, hugging the lay to his chest.

 

"Yes…"

_"Do you want to talk about it?"_

 

"No!"

 

Mark began smushing his fists into the fabric of the bolster.

 

"It's just that…ugh…Trelawney paired us up today in class…and…he was so…so cruel…"

 

The seeker shifted his weight around, his grey eyes softening.

_"Was it something that he said?"_

Mark's face tensed up and he threw the pillow with force, the item sailing over Cedric's head, who ducked out of the way.

 

"It's everything that he said! Everything that he did! It's like every opportunity that he gets, he's always needling at me!"

_"How does that make you feel?"_

 

Cedric was trying to be empathetic, but now really wasn't the time.

 

"How does that make me feel?!"

 

Mark stood up, towering over the other boy.

 

"How do you think that makes me feel?! You're not a shrink, Cedric!"

 

Cedric swallowed, sitting back. Mark let out a ragged breath, running a hand across his face.

 

"Sorry…I'm sorry…"

_"Don't apologize."_

 

"It's just…I don't have an excuse. I said unforgiveable things. I-maybe if I didn't pressure him, shove my

feelings down his throat…"

 

Cedric stood, opening the spans of his hands.

_"Your actions were justified; anyone would have done the same things had they been in your shoes. You thought Jack shared your affections and were hurt when you found out otherwise. Mark, you need to quit blaming yourself for everything this relationship has burdened you with. Clearly Jack is making good on the Slytherin name. It's obvious he wants to hold this over your head, and honestly, his behavior is childish. I know what you said was hurtful, but does that really mean he should do the same? You can't fight fire with fire."_

 

Mark went and leaned against the window, looking out at the grass, a few stray autumn leaves scattered about.

 

"You're right, Ced, I know you're right. I just can't…let go…"

 

Cedric came up to the window.

_"If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it was never was."_

 

Mark turned, his brows knitted.

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

Cedric leaned his back against the wall.

_"If you truly love Jack, you have to let him go. If he loves you, he'll find his way back to you. If not, then you need to move on. And if you want my honest opinion,"_

 

He laid his hand on his fellow Hufflepuff's shoulder,

_"I think it's time to move on."_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Mark sat up, stretching out his aching muscles.

_“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”_

Cedric looked up from his arithmancy book that was open on his bed, cracking a slight smile. Mark rubbed his eyes, yawning.

“How long was I asleep?”

Cedric looked down at his timepiece,

_“Only an hour or two.”_

Mark groaned, bending down to gather up some textbooks and papers that had gone awry.

_“So,”_

Cedric swung his legs down off the bed onto the floor, leaning forward.

_“I heard about this flyer outside the Great Hall that’s causing an awful lot of noise. Wanna go check it out?”_

Mark could’ve sworn he saw some kind of mischievous glint in the other boy’s eyes, and part of him just wanted to stay in the cozy comfort of the common room, but instead he shrugged and replied

“ok.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

They were dodging other students on their way down the twisting, merging staircases, some air of excitement radiating from both Hufflepuffs at the thought of getting closer to this mysterious text.

Cedric was the first one down the steps, Mark not far behind, hopping over the last five or so to catch up. Cedric grabbed onto the sleeve of Mark’s black cardigan, stretching out the yellow stripes as he tugged the other boy next to him in front of the flyer.

**Triwizard Tournament**

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

Cedric put his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed.

_“Ok…not a terrible amount of information…but…I’m intrigued…”_

Cedric was being overly enthusiastic for Mark's sake, and the other Hufflepuff kinda wished he would just drop the act.

 

"Cedric, please. You don't have to put on a face just for me."

_"Whaddya mean?"_

 

"Just cut it out, ok?! You don't have to pretend to be happy for my sake."

 

He slid down onto the cobbled floor, covering his face with his hands. He heard Cedric drop down next to him.

 

"I just…want him out of my head…"

 

He felt Cedric's hand on his shoulder.

_"It's gonna be ok Mark. I’m here. I’ll always be here."_

Mark felt hot tears trickling down his cheeks. He swallowed thickly, feeling his shoulders shake with the effort of holding in a mewling, pathetic sob. 

 

“I want to let him go…I really do,”

 

He started, his voice cracking as he sniveled.

 

“But I can’t…I just can’t…”

 

His sobs echoed softly in the corridor. He felt Cedric’s arms come around him, the other Hufflepuff holding him tightly.

 

_“I know…”_

“I loved him so much…I thought he felt the same way…I thought…God…he was everything to me… _everything…”_

_“It’s ok,”_

Cedric lulled.

 

“No it’s not!”

 

Mark sobbed.

 

“He’s gone…I’ve lost him… _forever…_ don’t tell me it’s ok, Cedric, you don’t know what it’s like…you don’t…”

 

Mark’s breath snagged in his throat, his breaths paroxysmal and hitched.

 

Cedric leaned his cheek against Mark’s head, knowing that any squishy, sentimental Hufflepuff garble he could concoct was not what Mark need to hear.

 

_“I’m sorry…”_

That was when they heard the chortling and looked up, Mark’s vision blurred by tears. He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands, dislocating from Cedric almost angrily. Cedric’s expression changed only slightly as he followed Mark’s gaze. Not far away, Mark saw a familiar group of Slytherins, their eyes fixed upon he and Cedric.

_"You have some interesting taste, Fischbach. First mudblood, now pure blood. Pathetic really."_

 

Blaise smirked, crossing his arms.

 

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

 

Mark felt something spark to life inside of him.

 

_“Long enough.”_

Blaise laughed wickedly.

 

_“So pathetic.”_

“Oh, fuck off!”

 

Mark yelled, his nostrils flaring. He rushed the Slytherin, ready to clock him or jinx him when Cedric grabbed his arm.

 

_“Mark, stop! Don’t! Just go away Blaise! You’ve done enough!”_

Zabini’s lip curdled.

 

That didn't stop the other Hufflepuff, who launched forward again, drawing his wand.

 "Say it again! Go on, say it, Blaise!"

 The Slytherin smirked.

  _"What, mudblood? Set your teeth on edge Fischbach?"_

 A roar ripped from the back of Mark's throat as he smacked Blaise with _stupefy_ , the Slytherin falling backwards. Blaise tried to disarm Mark, who easily blocked the spell. Blaise hopped up, wand at the ready.

 Mark doubled back with a leg-locker curse. His upper lip snarled as he watched Zabini teeter back and forth, attempting to keep his balance. But the smirk faded when Blaise waved his wand over his knees, muttering the counter-curse.

_"Kid stuff."_

 Mark growled in the back of his throat, lunging towards the Slytherin, ramming him in the ribs. He drew back his fist, connecting it with the other's face. Blaise recoiled some, but turned back towards Mark, blood gushing out of his nose.

 "Not so funny now is it, Blaise?!"

 The second punch uppercut the Slytherin's jaw, sending him staggering. Mark was breathing heavily, his nostrils flared. Blaise took a step forward, some trepidation in his footwork.

 The first punch that Blaise threw was feint, and it connected loosely with the upper part of Mark's arm. The Hufflepuff held up his fists to block any more blows the other tried to pass on him, but used his feet to his advantage, kicking into the side of Blaise's kneecap.

 The other howled with pain, his body twisting in the direction opposite the blow.

  _"Mark, stop it! Stop!"_

 There was a strong grip grasping him underneath the arms as Diggory dragged him backwards.

 "Get up you coward! C'mon! Get up and fight!"

 Mark broke free of Cedric's grip, rushing the Slytherin. But he had gotten cocky, and Blaise threw a few more punches. A few more punches that _did_ make contact. Mark leaned back a bit from the blow that had hit him square in the face. He felt the hot creep of blood down his face, but put his dukes back up.

 "Not so smart now, are we?"

 Blaise growled maliciously, swinging his foot into Mark's side. The Hufflepuff reeled, bending some with the force of the blow. But he didn't fall, made absolutely sure that he _didn't_ fall.

 That did it. It _pissed_ Mark off. He lunged forward with newfound anger, swinging left and right. He didn't even notice how bloody Blaise was. The Slytherin was on the floor, holding up his hand to block the blows.

  _"Mark! Mark stop it! Stop! You're hurting him!"_

 But Cedric's voice sounded a million miles away. A gush of blood spattered across Mark's face, and he found himself flinching. Then he felt shockwaves of pain course through his body that crippled his form and he fell to his knees.

 Cedric stowed his wand back into his pocket, rushing to Mark's side.

  _"I'm sorry, Mark. I'm sorry!"_

 "What-"

 Mark ground his teeth at the pain.

 "What did you do to me?"

 Cedric sort of smirked shyly.

  _"Standard immobilizing spell. I think you fell asleep that day in charms."_

 Mark pushed a sound up from deep within his chest.

 "Well dammit, Cedric! Help me up!"

 Cedric helped pull the bloodied Hufflepuff to his feet, who staggered and swayed, feeling as if his legs were made of gelatin. Blaise was peeling himself off the floor like an egg that had cooked to the pavement in the middle of July. However, despite his chivalry and good nature, Cedric made no effort to help the grumbling Slytherin.

  _"Let's go Mark. C'mon."_

 Cedric was helping him off in the direction of the common room when he looked over his shoulder. He could have sworn he had seen somebody standing just out of view in the corridor. He had seen a flash of green-trimmed robe, but now that he thought about it, maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mark was practically hopping to maintain his balance as they entered the common room. Cedric had been on his ass ever since they had left Blaise.

  _"What's the matter with you?! You're acting awfully strange! What were you thinking, beating him senseless like that?!"_

 Mark attempted to kick the trunk under his bed.

 "Zabini deserved it! He's the world's biggest asshole, next to Malfoy!"

 Mark began to pace awkwardly, getting his bearings back. He waggled a finger at Cedric.

 "Y'know, I bet Malfoy egged him on to say all that! I saw somebody in the corridor, just out of sight! What do you want to bet that it was that sniveling little brat?!"

  _"Why would Malfoy want Blaise to say all those things?"_

 "Because Malfoy's a dick! Pull your head out of your ass, Ced! Those Slytherins walk all over us because everyone has us pegged as duffers!"

 Cedric was slightly taken aback.

  _"You take that back, Mark!"_

 "It's the truth! We're always the nice guys, and-and I'm sick of it! I _refuse_ to be treated like a doormat anymore!"

 Cedric opened his mouth to say something, his hand raised in argument, but he lowered it, instead running it through his curls.

 Mark dropped down onto his knees, digging through his trunk.

 Cedric stopped pacing.

_"What-what the hell are you looking for in there?"_

Mark protruded a tiny blue flower from within the folds of rumpled clothes.

 "I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it is to me…at least it was… We were walking along this little pathway down by the lake and Jack had stopped to pick one. It's a forget-me-not. He said as long as I had it, we'd always remember that moment."

 Cedric was silent. Mark looked up at him then down at the flower. He shook his head.

 Mark sighed, then placed the flower back in the folds of a sweater, slamming down the lid of the trunk.

 "I have a brilliant beyond brilliant idea."

 He jumped up, grabbing Cedric's arms.

 "We're gonna enter the tournament and show all those assholes what we're made of."

 Cedric's eyes bugged out of his skull a bit.

  _"Are you serious?"_

 Mark pulled a face.

 "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

 A small smirk curled up the edges of Cedric's lips.

  _"I say let's do it."_

 He grabbed onto Mark's hand, the sound reverberating through the small room.

 "Let the games begin."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the middle of the night, and yet he was wide awake. He rolled off his back onto his side to look at Cedric. The other Hufflepuff had a hand buried underneath his pillow, his mop of curls awry, his mouth slightly agape.

 "Cedric? Are you awake?"

 He hissed through his teeth.

 There was only a slurred muttering of incoherent words from the other. Mark sighed, rolling back onto his back. He put his arms above his head, trying to clear his mind. He almost considered conjuring sheep or something to help him fall asleep.

 There was something nagging at him, pulling at his gut. He slowly got up, placing his feet on the cold floor. He rubbed his eyes, sighing.

 Mark slowly sunk off the bed, trying to pull his trunk out from underneath his bed as quietly as possible. It squealed, and Mark found himself cringing. Cedric only mushed his face into his pillow more, his arm lolling over the side of the bed. One of the other boys let out a goose-honking snore, turning over.

Mark flicked open the latches on the trunk, digging through the layers of clothes until he found the little blue flowers amongst the folds of a burgundy sweater.

 Mark slowly went to the little inset window and unlatched it. He reached over to his desk and pulled his wand from the bag hanging on the chair. Mark carefully pointed the tip of the wand at the little blue flower within his palm and transfigured the flower into a little bird.

 Mark gently stuck his arm out the window and cast a very quiet _"relashio"_ on the little bird. He watched it flutter away into the pale blue moonlight, resting his chin on his forearms. And slowly, a little wave of peace seemed to wash over him.

 Mark closed the window, placing the wand back into his knapsack. He closed the trunk with his foot and climbed back into his bed, pulling the sheet back over his body. And then he closed his eyes, feeling tired at last.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....


	2. I don't want to see you (with him)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin, and well, it's a bit unsettling. With the arrival of two new schools to Hogwarts, the castle is practically busting at the seams. And that's not the only thing about to burst. With the attention of a particular stranger, Jack finds it hard to breathe. But it's also hard to breathe when he sees Mark wrapped around a certain Hufflepuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!! I am so very sorry that my updates are so sporadic, but I'm trying to update more regularly now that I'm on winter recess from college! I really hope you enjoy this second chapter of the story, and Jack's perspective! I had a lot of fun writing this one! Let me know what you think! Here we go!

He woke with a start from what had been a series of terrible dreams. His chest was heaving as he breathed heavily, holding onto it with one hand. Jack pulled his knees up to his chest, covering his face with his hands.

He took several minutes to just breathe before he pulled back the heavy bedsheets and exited the room, tugging on his sweater.

It was late at night, or early in the morning, he really hadn't been keeping track lately. It felt like his head was in a fog half the time. Ever since Mark and he had "broken up," which was the most polite term he could come up with, Jack had felt-

Well, what did he feel exactly? Distracted? Hurt? Anxious? Depressed? There were far too many feelings swirling around inside of him and he shook his mop of green back and forth as he rubbed up and down his arms in a fruitless attempt to warm up.

The common room was deserted, and quite dark, save for a few lamps that had been left on at the front of the room. The embers within the great limestone fireplace looked as if they had died off a couple of hours ago.

He sighed, turning his attention to one of the long, ornate windows set into the wall, staring out at the inky black water, watching it lap against the outside of the castle. Jack let the sound lull him for a moment.

He rounded the front of one of the great black couches and sat down, leaning his elbows onto his knees. His hands raked through his hair absently once more before he took his wand from within the confines of his sweater and conjured up a new fire.

 Not that long ago, Jack never would have been able to conjure that up. If it hadn't been for Mark—the Slytherin stopped himself, looking off to the side as he bit down on his lower lip. Jack bit harder to quell the buildup of unshed tears he felt burning behind his tired blue eyes.

Jack curled onto his side, burring his face in the leather of the couch as he stared into the flickering glow of the fire. Sometimes, he wished things had been different. That different words had been exchanged. Different feelings. He wished that he could _love_ Mark. But he couldn’t do that. Not now. Maybe not ever. He just wasn’t ready.

And would he ever really be ready? Maybe everyone was right about him. Maybe he really was a horrible, awful Slytherin after all.

Jack felt the tears begin to burn hotly behind his eyes and he was glad he was alone in the cold, damp common room so that no one could see him cry.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The castle was abuzz with continuous chatter on that day that the Tournament was supposed to commence. Jack for one, was not in the least bit excited. He continued down the hall, pulling at the strap of his bag, books clutched to his chest.

There was a scowl on his face as he entered the common room, sighing heavily as he threw his books and bag down on the silver-embroidered bedspread. He just didn’t understand the concept of enjoying a competition where there was the great likelihood of someone _dying._

While everyone else was happily blabbering about the events of the evening that were yet to come, Jack was sulking. He flopped onto his back, the mattress springing up and down. He reached down to pull a book out of his knapsack.

There was an assignment for Defense Against the Dark Arts due at the end of the week, and Jack figured that maybe he should start it before the day came that it was due.

He flipped absently through the pages of his book, rolling onto his stomach, holding the book right in front of his face. One of his roommates, Spencer, entered the bedchamber, throwing his bag on the floor. He turned to Jack as he attempted to tug off his shoes.

_"Oi, McLoughlin! You excited about tonight?"_

Jack all but yawned.

"Oh, _so_ excited I think I might burst."

A look crossed over Spencer's face for a moment.

_"You ok…?"_

Jack let out an irritated breath, rolling off the bed onto his feet, grabbing his bag once more.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?!"

 Spencer stood from his own bed, his hands in his trouser pockets as he awkwardly tried to make small talk.

_"I just want to make sure you're alright."_

Jack opened the door, turning before he slammed it shut.

"You're a Slytherin, Whiddon. You aren't _supposed_ to care if other people are alright."

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Jack didn't know where to go after his little hissy fit. He tucked his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling extremely shy. He kept his head down as he moved through the semi-crowded corridors and walked off in the direction of the grounds.

It was getting dark, so Jack pulled his wand from his bag and cast a quick _lumos. Technically,_ students weren't supposed to be outside the castle after dark, but tell that to all of the professors who had their heads up their arses and their wands all in knots over this stupid tournament.

Jack walked further and further away from the castle until he was upon the outskirts of the grounds and the Dark Forest began. He craned his neck back to look up at the massive trees, the most unwelcoming sounds coming from just within the tree line.

That, however, did not stop the Irish boy, who put one foot in front of the other, wand held close to his face as he stepped deeper into the forest.

There were wisps of fog hovering just above the ground, tree branches snapping behind Jack. He spun around, the light from his wand casting eerie shadows.

He walked further and further on a familiar path until he reached an all too familiar clearing. It seemed deserted, though.

Until he turned around and was met with a great, black beast looming above him. The creature was thin, all too thin in a sickly sort of way, its ribcage and spine visible, its black, leathery skin sticking to it like bits of old elephant skin. It had a long neck, flared nostrils, eyes that glowed like pools of water, and wings that resembled those of a bat.

Instead of being struck with fear, Jack smiled, reaching out a hand to the creature, running his hand up and down its long face. The creature puffed out a breath through its nostrils, seemingly content.

"Hello there, love."

Jack cooed, stroking the Thestral as if it were a beloved pet. It began to push its nose into Jack's hand, rumbling. Jack sighed, chuckling.

"That's it then for the foreplay? Just want to cut to the good stuff?"

The Thestral huffed. Jack smiled, reaching into his bag, pulling out a cut of raw meat. The Thestral began to snort excitedly as Jack held out the slab to the creature, which took it delightedly. Jack laughed, patting its muzzle.

 "Nom nom."

He took up a seat on a rotting log as he watched the beast for a long while. After a beat, he stood, approaching the Thestral.

He patted its snoot lovingly.

"I have to go now."

There was almost a whine emitted from the creature as it pushed at Jack with its nose.

"I know, love, I know."

He wrapped his arms around its neck, hugging the beast for a moment, his face pressed against its skin.

 "But I'll be back soon. I promise.”

He slowly uncoupled his arms from around the Thestral, putting his bag back over his shoulder, backing away slowly. He watched the beast fade out of sight before he re-lit his wand and continued on the path back out of the forest and back into the castle.

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Everyone was seemingly antsy and quaking at the knees with anticipation. The heads of houses were trying to organize their students before leading them out to the courtyard. Jack got snapped at by one of the prefects, to which he retorted with a snappy one-liner, dripping with sass.

He stood in front of the mirror, knotting his tie. He licked his palm to slick back some unruly hair as he adjusted his sweater and threw on his cloak. Everyone was supposed to "look their best." Jack just honestly believed it was a way to make everyone wear their overpriced clothes.

Jack was in the back of his line, with all of the other seventh years. The first years and other younger kids were hopping in and out of line, getting chided severely by the prefects, who nearly used a Cruciatus curse on their asses.

 Jack saw Spencer and Sebastian, getting side glances from both of the boys. He kept his eyes fixed front, keeping up with the line of black-garbed students who, as orderly as a mob of Cornish pixies, filed out onto the steps of the castle.

The prefects were fixing their rows, grasping onto the shoulders of their fellow students to correct their posture. Jack saw one Ravenclaw shove her hand down some guy's pants to tuck in his shirt. _Ruthless._

 First years were in front, seventh years in the back. Gryffindor on the far left, then Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and then Slytherin on the far right. Jack breathed, just focusing on getting this over with. Then, he heard a familiar voice and turned his head.

 There, amongst the sea of black and yellow garments, he saw _Mark._ Jack felt his breath lodge in his throat and he made a most unattractive noise to try and get it out. Sebastian even ended up slapping him on the back a few times. Jack knew his face was red from both embarrassment and coughing and looked up, barking into his fist, to see Mark staring at him.

 The Hufflepuff looked at him inquisitively, looking as if he wanted to say something. Their eyes linked for what seemed like the longest moment in the history of time before their gazes were broken by the sound of someone shouting and pointing madly at the sky.

  _"There!"_

 They screamed, the sound bursting from the crowd. Everyone's eyes flickered to the sky to search for the object that was being picked from amongst the glittering stars.

 There was an object, nearly the size of a house, glittering and golden hurdling towards the castle. A few people screamed and prefects were shoving students back to avoid being clobbered.

 The three front rows of students hurriedly stepped back as the object—a carriage—came crashing down to the courtyard. Someone backed up and stepped on Jack's foot and he nearly whipped out his wand and blew their head off. Instead, he hissed though his teeth and gave them a prompt shove back into place.

 People's eyes were as wide as saucers as they took in the glittering, ornate carriage. Hooked to it was row upon row of massive, white stallions who bucked and whinnied, their hooves hitting the ground were like earthquakes. Even Jack's eyes widened a little, those horses were as big as Hippogriffs.

 But everyone's eyes went a little wider—if that was even possible—as a woman of incredible size exited the carriage, wrapped up in furs and she stunk of expensive perfume. Hagrid assisted the woman humbly. Jack, even from as far back as he was, could have sworn the old gamekeeper was blushing.

 The students seemed to take a step back, craning their necks to take in the woman's sheer size alone. The woman cracked a small smile, bowing slightly as a clap began to emerge from the crowd which slowly grew to two claps offbeat of each other, then three, then four until the whole courtyard was engulfed in a swell of clapping and cheering.

 The woman bowed again, flourishing her hand to the carriage, where row after row of prim, prissy-looking ladies filed out, all in short, cornflower blue attire. Several of the boys wolf-whistled, and Jack just rolled his eyes.

 There was only the sound of the gigantic horses snorting and stamping for a while until a loud noise exploded across the courtyard, like a bubble busting. And then there was the unmistakable voice of Lee Jordan rising above the crowd.

  _"The lake! Look at the lake!"_

 In the gleam of the moonlight, a great ship ascended to the surface of the lake, with broad masts and banners whipping in a nonexistent wind. It wasn’t nearly as grand as the glimmering carriage, it looked…desolate, like a wreck that had been pulled from the bottom of the ocean. The sound of the anchor startled nearly everyone, the professors included.

 Slowly, figures began to appear, they drew nearer and nearer to the castle. All stocky in build, wearing varying assortments of furs and capes. The man who appeared to be their headmaster, garbed in white with silvering hair, pulled Dumbledore in for what looked like a tense embrace. There was suddenly a gasp from within the crowd. The students watched the rows of Durmstrangs come forward, one particular boy in the front.

_“Oh my…it’s Viktor Krum!”_

Jack contained a snort in his fist. This was ridiculous. First all the boys were drooling over the Beauxbatons, now all the girls looked ready to pounce on the single Durmstrang. Perhaps he could find something amusing in this tournament after all.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The Great Hall was packed fuller than usual with the addition of the two schools to the normal Hogwarts crowd. Jack tucked in on himself as he felt like a sardine as Durmstrangs clamored over to the Slytherin table. Jack rubbed at his face, this was going to be one long night.

 There was endless chatter amongst the three schools' students until Dumbledore silenced them all.

 He began a speech which started off with something to the extent of

_“Good evening students, faculty, ghosts, and highly esteemed guests…blah blah blah blee blee blah blah…”_

Jack zoned out about halfway through it, leaning forward onto his elbows, his eyelids growing heavy. He snapped out of it when Dumbledore finally concluded his long-winded speech.

  _“and the Triwizard Tournament will begin at the end of the feast. So, tuck in and enjoy!”_

 Finally! Now they were talking! Jack rubbed his hands together as the array of golden platters and plates filled with mountains of food. Jack just didn't know where to begin. He grabbed a little bit of everything and was about to shove something gelatinous into his mouth when he felt someone sit down next to him.

 He looked up, about to give the person a piece of his mind when they spoke up.

  _"It is ok if I sit here, da?"_

 Jack suddenly swallowed. Well, now he saw what all the fuss was about. The boy had a squared off jaw that looked as if it had been cut from marble by Michelangelo himself and deep-set eyes that were pools of lush browns.

 Jack nearly tripped over his words.

 "Uh…yeah…go ahead…no one's stopping you…"

 The boy nodded his head in agreement, settling down with his plate of food. Jack took a long drink of water. The boy extended his hand to Jack, smiling slightly.

  _"Viktor Krum."_

 "Oh, uh…yeah…yeah…Jack…"

 He smiled awkwardly as he took Viktor's hand, shaking it. Viktor went back to his food and Jack emptied his goblet of the rest of its water. He felt like his face was on fire. He needed more water. No—better yet he needed to crawl under the table and die.

 Jack let out a nervous breath, his head snapping in the direction of the Durmstrang's voice.

  _"So, Jack. Are you excited for vis tournament?"_

 The Durmstrang's dark eyes locked with Jack's. He knew his face was as orange as a Dirigible plum.

 "Oh yeah. You have no idea."

 Viktor shoveled another forkful of ham into his mouth.

  _"Are you voing to venter?"_

 Jack pointed to himself, watching Viktor nod as if it was plainly obvious, and Jack laughed.

 "Me? Me, oh no. No no no. Haha. No. I'm more of a sidelines kind of guy."

  _"Good."_

 Viktor responded.

 "Good?"

 Jack echoed.

 "You mean like less competition, right?"

 Viktor laughed.

  _"Silly English boy, you are funny. I vook vorward to veeing you soon."_

 Jack could have sworn Viktor's hand lingered for far too long on his thigh before the Durmstrang got up from the table and disappeared into a sea of students.

 Jack leaned his elbows onto the table, gasping as he loosened his tie.

_Did that just actually happen? Did Viktor fucking Krum just…just…flirt with him?_

  _Holy shit,_ Jack thought.

_This tournament might actually be worth it in the long run._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Dumbledore finally spoke up again, he had seemingly captured the attention of the entire hall in a second. He began talking about the tournament and when the word _champions_ left his lips, everyone's attention seemingly peaked. A chest was brought in by Filch, accompanied by several men. Dumbledore introduced Bartemius Crouch, who would be overseeing the tournament. 

 At some point, unbeknownst to Jack, Viktor had sat back down next to him, and offered a small smile as he looked over his shoulder.

 "Well you are just like a bad penny, aren't you?"

 Jack muttered under his breath, giving an awkward wave. He felt like everyone in the whole hall was watching this interaction. And then it dawned on Jack—Mark.

  _Oh shit, Mark!_

 Jack searched the hall frantically to see if the Hufflepuff was seething at the mouth over this hot as _fuck_ eye sex he and Viktor were having.

 But instead, Mark was completely absorbed in what appeared to be his own hot as _fuck_ eye sex with Cedric Diggory. Jack sat back. _Cedric Diggory?!_ Now _that_ was a slap in the face. A _pureblood?_ Jack suddenly wasn’t very hungry, and pushed his plate forward on the table.

 A roar of booing arose from the crowd of students when Crouch mentioned that no student under the age of seventeen could participate in the tournament, a particularly loud chorus coming from the Weasley twins

Dumbledore silenced the hall by tapping the casket with his wand, from which a goblet rose. He tapped the goblet with his wand and it erupted with magnificent blue-silver flames.

_“Any student wishing to submit their name to the tournament must write both their name and school upon a slip of parchment and place in it the goblet before this time next Thursday night. But I must warn you, these tasks are not for the faint of heart. If chosen, you stand alone. From this moment forward, the Triwizard Tournament has begun.”_

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 Jack wasn’t overly enthralled about the recent turn of events. He didn’t care for the tournament, not one bit. The usually crowed halls were even more crowed, the noisy common room was even more noisy. He clenched his fist around the strap of his messenger bag, shoving through the crowds of people. He cut through the courtyard, wanting to get to the Great Hall so that he could at least be on time for lunch. _For once._ All people talked about was this stupid tournament, and he was already bitterly sick of it. He didn’t give one hot holy _fuck_ if the Bulgarian bon-bon Viktor Krum wanted into his pants or not. Jack was done. With it _all._

The hall was especially crowded today with people gawking at all the seventh years throwing their names into the goblet. Jack inhaled sharply, diverging towards the Slytherin table when there was suddenly an enormous bought of cheering. Jack turned to peer over his shoulder and saw Fred and George Weasley come running into the hall with two vials hoisted above their heads.

Jack heard Granger giving them some snarky line about how it wasn’t going to work because Dumbledore had drawn the age line himself and a couple of dimwits weren’t going to outsmart him. And…they didn’t. Jack found himself taking a step back when a hot white light burst out from around the goblet and expelled the pair of twins, who looked a little worse for wear.

Overlooking that little escapade, more people approached the goblet, throwing in their pieces of parchment ripped from composition books and boxes of sweets and perfume bottles. The hall fell particularly silent as Krum placed in his parchment. There was a nod in his general direction from the Bulgarian. Jack disregarded it, even though his cheeks began to burn.

Jack was shoveling in a spoonful of Cheeri Owls when there was more yelling and he turned to see a flash of yellow robes.

_“Put it in!”_

_“You first!”_

At first, he only saw Diggory, with a huge smirk plastered across his face, stepping into the age line backwards, then the other Hufflepuff came into view. Jack dropped the spoon away from his mouth. He watched Cedric grab onto the sleeve of Mark’s robe and pull him over the age line. And a coolness fell over the Slytherin, a weight settling heavily upon his chest. He shook his head, trying to tear his eyes away from Mark, but he felt the overwhelming need to watch his every move.

There was a smile of a sickly sort on his face as he and Cedric counted down.

_“Three…two…one!”_

They threw their parchments into the goblet simultaneously, clasping hands as cheering arose from the other Hogwarts students. Mark didn't even _look_ in his general direction. He was too _busy_ with his precious _Cedric._ They hung off each other like file on a racehorse's arse.

Jack bit down on his lip, his fist clenched around the spoon.

But why should he care what Mark thought? They were through. Done. Goodbye. The end. But something still sat sourly with the Slytherin when he heard a voice.

  _“Are you alright Sean?”_

Jack turned his gaze to the side where he saw Luna perched next to him, her legs crossed on top of the bench.

“I’m-yeah I’m just grand.”

He went back to his cereal—yes there is cereal at lunch, wizards are not savages—, but Luna didn’t leave. In fact, she leaned closer on her elbows.

_“I was sorry to hear about you and Mark…”_

“Not that it’s any of your business…”

Jack grumbled.

_“Aren’t you worried about him entering the tournament after what Mister Crouch said?”_

Jack whipped around to face the Ravenclaw.

“Why should _I_ be worried about _him_?!”

He snapped, throwing down his spoon as he grabbed his messenger bag, throwing the strap around his neck.

_“Sean, I just want to help-”_

“Save it. I’ve gotten plenty of advice from people like you who just want to help.”

He leaned down close, his eyes menacing.

“And I don’t want your help!”

He stormed out of the hall, taking a sharp turn where he nearly smacked into a few people. He shoved a few of them out of the way, picking up the pace as he weaved his way through the narrow corridors. He turned sharply again, rushing down a corridor and banked into the bathroom.

 He threw his bag onto the floor, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles were white. He felt all knotted up inside, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again.

 "Stop it. Stop it!"

 He screamed, his voice echoing off the walls. He seemed to startle a few people. He hung his head, unbuttoning his cardigan, needing to breathe.

After everything that had happened, all the things they had said, all the things they had done…he didn’t mean it…

He looked off afar, brushing a hand through his green curls. And now…he was _never_ going to get the chance to fix things because of _Cedric._

“Stupid… _so_ stupid…”

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

 But he wasn't calming down. If anything, he was getting more and more angry. And that anger bubbled up further and further, like scalding hot lava and Jack screamed out, sending his fist flying into the mirror in front of his twisted face. The mirror shattered into a million shiny, silver shards, decorating the basin of the skin and the floor, crunching under Jack's shoes as he collapsed onto the floor, bloody hand sliding down the sink. His oozing knuckles stained his shirt. But he didn't care. He cried and cried. He cried because he knew what this meant.

 He knew now that it was really over.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Well, his little meltdown had cost him a trip to the hospital wing and what seemed to be the world's longest death-glare from Snape.

 His head of house stood ominously in the corner of the room as Madame Pomfrey attended to his injuries, Snape all the while scouring at him.

 Jack wanted to spit out some snarky comment, but the snarky comment section of his brain was switched off.

 He just looked at the floor as Madame Pomfrey cleaned and bandaged his hand, every word out her mouth sounding like they were all underwater.

Jack sighed, looking up, knowing that he was going to have to face Snape’s wrath sooner rather than later. The potions master had his arms crossed over his chest, his greasy hair hanging in front of his eye on one side of his face.

_“Mister McLoughlin…might I ask you what possessed you to bludgeon a mirror with your hand? That doesn’t seem like a wise thing to do.”_

It was almost instantaneous that a wry smirk twitched at the edges of the professor’s lips, expecting Jack’s witty response. But, his smirk faded when Jack responded, almost courteously,

“I don’t know, sir.”

The potions master was well taken aback, uncrossing his arms. Jack had adverted his gaze back to the floor, sighing loudly.

Snape cleared his throat, as if looking for something to say considering Jack’s lack of snide.

_“Be that as it may, Mister McLoughlin, you will serve two hours of detention tonight. Be in my office. Six o’clock. Sharp. Do not be late.”_

“Yes, sir.”

Snape gave one more look in Jack’s direction before he leaned over to Madame Pomfrey, whispering,

_“Check him over once more. Make sure he is not ill. His lack of…sarcasm is most unsettling.”_

Then the potions master left the hospital wing, his great black cape billowing around him.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack was in Snape’s office at two minutes to six, in _very_ uncharacteristic McLoughlin fashion. Snape was almost surprised. He gave Jack a bucket and a brush, coolly stating that the Slytherin’s punishment for the night was to clean the floor of the potions classroom. _Without magic._ Snape held out his hand for Jack’s wand, who begrudgingly handed it over.

Snape went back to his journals as Jack exited the office and made his way into the classroom. The dungeon was always dark, but it seemed especially darker at this time of night. Jack let out a massive sigh, stripping off his sweater, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and got down on his hands and knees.

He began scrubbing the floor with the non-bandaged hand, making small circles in the filth coating the floor. Servantry was no stranger to Jack. His family had not been in the way of funds when he was young, so almost everyone in his entire family worked from a young age. He remembered having to scrub the floors of this old bitch’s house.

A twinge began to pull at Jack as the memory came flooding back to him. He remembered the woman screaming at his mother, telling her he was “unclean” and “a devil’s child.” Jack was always persecuted for his magic, even when he tried to hide it.

When his mother wasn’t around, the woman would kick him. Jack groaned slightly, feeling phantom pain in his side. He began to scrub the floor harder, the brush making the most unpleasant sound.

He worked the brush harder and harder, hearing all of the sounds from his past catch up to him all at once. All of the horrible memories, the name-calling, the teasing…

And then…

_“Just get out of here! Get out of my sight! Filthy mudblood!”_

Jack froze in place. It was like every muscle in his body had locked up at the memory. He attempted to move his arm, but it felt like it was being held to the floor with glue.

Jack choked down a sob, feeling tears begin to slosh down his face. Jack began to scrub the floor with both hands, an unhealthy sound bursting from his chest. The wail echoed in the hollow classroom.

Someone had been passing by the classroom and must have heard it, for they entered. Jack didn’t even notice them until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

_“Jack?”_

He looked to the side at the person who had called his name.

It was Granger. She must have been down here after one of those tutoring sessions or something. There was a stack of books piled up by her bag.

_“Are you alright? You’re bleeding!”_

Her hand came over his, turning it palm up, blots of crimson soaking through the bandage. Jack retracted his hand, holding it close to his chest.

“It-it’s nothing…”

His voice was especially rough. Hermione’s eyes didn’t leave him however. Her brows were drawn together, light eyes searching his face.

_“It’s ok,”_

She began softly, setting her hand over his two gripping the brush.

She looked off to the side, biting her lip.

_“Is this about…you…and…Mark…?”_

Jack looked up at the Gryffindor, his eyes puffy and red. He wiped at them with the sleeve of his shirt.

_“I don’t mean to pry…”_

She pulled her hand away and began to collect her books when Jack spoke, ever so quietly.

“He called me…a mudblood.”

Hermione stilled, her eyes softening as she looked back over Jack. The Slytherin looked pitiful, covered in dirt, the tails of his shirt browned slightly, and dampened.  

_“Oh…Jack…I-”_

A sob escaped the Slytherin, tears pouring down his cheeks. The Jack everyone knew would never act this way, never appear this…vulnerable…especially in front of Granger. But lately, Jack didn’t know who that other boy was, he felt like a distant memory, a shell of himself. There were all of these emotions building up inside of him and he had just been bottling them up more and more until now.

Hermione looked at him, something new in her eyes. She slowly set down her books and bag, crouching back down. She cautiously leaned in closer to him, her knee socks and the hem of her skirt dampening from the water spilt on the floor.

Her arms came around him, slightly awkward at first. Jack would have pushed her away, but right now, he felt so alone that he didn’t care. He clung to the Gryffindor tightly, his chin over her shoulder, crying into her hair.

She shushed him quietly, rubbing her hand up and down his back. Granger knew what it was like, to be called such a horrible name. But to be called that by the person you _love_ …now that was one thing she didn’t understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. No flash photography, please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are really heating up at Hogwarts with the selection of the champions. Mark is finding himself at odds with his feelings, having to consider if he's really done with Jack or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! Welcome to the next chapter! I can't tell all of you reading this how absolutely f*cking grateful I am for all of your love and support!!!! THANK YOU!!!!! It's your support that keeps me going!! I am enthralled that people are loving the crap out of this fic so thank you thank you thank you!!!! These take so long to write but it's all worth it when I get to read your guy's comments and see your reactions and talk about your theories!!! :D UAH!!!! I'm so happy and thankful for everyone's support!! I would like to add though that I took some dialogue and references from the actual book Goblet of Fire for this chapter so *no plagiarism intended!!!!* Ok, so, hope you guys like this chapter!! Lots 'o stuff happening!! Lemme know what you think!!  
> Lots of love, PF

It wasn’t long until that Thursday arrived that everyone had been so eager for. It was the day that the champions were to be announced. Mark had been bouncing all day long. He was a combination of nervous and excited and he just wanted the evening to arrive so that he could finally know.

It was Halloween, so it would be the second feast within a matter of days. Mark sighed as he leaned his elbows up on his desk, not paying any attention at all. There was a sudden crack next to his table and he looked up, being met with the beady eyes of Professor Snape.

_“Mister Fischbach, perhaps you could tell the class the answer? Or were you too busy fantasizing?”_

Mark’s face went a deep shade of red and there were snickers from his fellow classmates as Snape moved on and received the answer from Hannah Abbott.

When potions was over, Mark shoved his books into his bag, Cedric coming to his side.

_“Nervous?”_

He asked as they ascended the stairs from the dungeon.

“A little. You?”

Cedric shrugged.

They were fairly quiet as they made their way back to the common room. Potions was late in the day for Hufflepuff, so it was practically last block. Mark tossed his bag onto his desk, rummaging through his trunk for something.

When he straightened up, he saw Cedric grabbing a few things from his own case. Both Hufflepuffs exchanged nervous smiles, tying their shoelaces, smoothing out wrinkles in their cloaks. Cedric looked down at his timepiece.

_“It’s about that time.”_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 The hall was buzzing with excited chatter as the students took their seats at their respective tables. Some of the Hogwarts students chortled at the way the Beauxbatons and Durmastrangs craned their necks back to gaze at the floating pumpkins.

Mark sat down, Cedric next to him, both boys antsy to just get through dinner and know who was going to be champion.

Mark let his eyes wander across the hall and they landed on Jack. Come to think of it, he hadn’t thought about Jack in a while. The Slytherin looked… _sad._ He wasn’t looking, his eyes fixed on something else, shoulders hunched. Mark watched as a Durmstrang took up a seat next to him. Jack looked up, his demeanor instantly changing as he appeared to brightly engage in conversation with the student, laughing. Then Mark realized that it wasn’t just any Durmstrang. It was Viktor Krum. Something seemed to burn within Mark, but he tried ignored it. _Why should it matter to him what Jack did anyway?_

Mark was pulled out of his thought by Dumbledore’s voice, welcoming everyone to the Halloween feast. He explained that the champions would be selected after the feast and asked everyone to offer the chorus a warm round of applause.

Flitwick got up in front of everyone and conducted his choir students and their croaking frogs through a few songs, including _Double, double toil and trouble_ _._

Mark just wished they’d cut to the chase and get on with the feast already. The choir finally stopped singing, being hastily applauded, and the feast began, pile upon pile of food filling the golden plates.

Mark himself wasn’t very hungry though. He pushed some meatballs around on his plate, craning his neck at the professors’ table to see if Dumbledore was done or not.

And it didn’t look like he was the only one. Other students were practically standing to see if the champions were going to be announced soon. People were fidgeting, their faces frowning, anxious.

Mark set his fork down on his plate, jogging his knee under the table. Suddenly, there was the sound of a spoon being tapped against a glass. Dumbledore was standing from the table, announcing that the champion selection was to begin shortly and that anyone still wanting to eat please finish promptly.

Mark practically breathed a sigh of relief. Anxious chatter began to fill the hall as the lights began to dim, only the flickering pumpkins casting out light. 

Dumbledore came down to the floor of the hall where the Goblet of Fire had been placed. On either side of him was Karkaroff and Maxime, both professors looking anxious as ever. Dumbledore approached the chalice, placing a hand on either side of it, the magnificent cool silvery-blue flames flickering into shades of red and magenta. Several students vocalized their enthusiasm.

Mister Crouch stood closer to the professors’ table, looking uninterested. A tense silence hung over the hall before Dumbledore spoke up.

_“Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber,”_

Dumbledore indicated the door to the trophy room with his hand.

_“where they will be receiving their first instructions.”_

Sparks began to fly out from the goblet, startling a few people. Some people began to clap. It was another tense moment before a spiral of flame shot from the goblet, a charred slip of parchment along with it. Dumbledore caught the piece of paper, turning it over in his hand.

_“The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!”_

Cheering erupted from the Slytherin end of the hall, strong, loud voices speaking in a foreign tongue.

Krum stood from the table, smiling triumphantly. He looked over his shoulder, smiling at someone back at the table. Mark couldn’t make out who it was.

Karkaroff smiled as he watched Viktor come up to Dumbledore, taking the slip of paper from the headmaster. He walked up the steps to the staff table, turned right and disappeared through a dark doorway into the trophy room.

Everyone held their breath as they waited for the goblet to choose again. The flames intensified, shooting another piece of paper into the air. This one was blue, and circular. Dumbledore caught the fancy slip, reading the extravagant handwriting.

_“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”_

There was a swell of feminine cheering, mixed in with all of the clapping. The girl, Fleur, stood, waving around at everyone for a moment before she walked up between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables to gracefully accept Dumbledore’s outstretched hand.

Mark’s heart suddenly shot up into his throat. He turned to Cedric.

“Moment of truth.”

Cedric nodded, he looked like he was about to pass out.

The goblet’s flames exploded once more, a final slip of paper shooting into the air. Everyone watched Dumbledore reach up and clutch the piece of parchment in his fist.

He turned it over in his hand, smiling.

_”And the Hogwarts champion is-”_

Everyone leaned forward in their seats. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

_“Mark Fischbach!”_

Mark felt a strong and sudden slap on the back, Cedric yanking him to his feet, pulling him into a hug. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming, stomping the ground, or banging on the table with their hands or their silverware.

_“You did it mate!! You did it!!”_

Cedric grabbed onto Mark once more. Mark felt like he was underwater. _Was this really real?_ He just stood there dumbly for a moment before Cedric shoved him forward.

_“Well go on! Go, Mark! This is your moment!”_

Slowly, Mark began to move away from the roaring Hufflepuff table, a small grin breaking across his face as he raised an arm and waved at his fellow students.

He approached Dumbledore, shaking his hand, the headmaster smiling broadly.

Mark took the charred slip of composition paper from his hand and made his way up past the staff table, starting towards the trophy room.

He glanced over his shoulder before descending into the trophy room and saw someone running rapidly form the hall. Someone in black robes. Someone with a shock of green hair.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A slight unease settled over Mark as he descended into the trophy room. The chamber was dimly lit by a crackling fire and a large lantern that hung from four chains. Krum was slouched, an arm resting on the mantel of the fireplace as he looked into its flames. Fleur was bent slightly at the waist, examining a trophy within one of the many cases. Both of their attentions flickered to Mark when he came off the last step. Their eyes seemed to glimmer competitively in the firelight.

Mark approached the other two champions, a still, awkward silence settling over the trio. Fleur flicked her sheath of slivery-blonde hair over one shoulder, Krum crossing his arms. Mark made it a point to avoid eye contact with both of them.

After what seemed like a long while, Dumbledore entered the trophy room, accompanied by Karkaroff, Maxime, and Crouch. There was still a smile on Dumbledore’s face as his eyes dusted over Mark.

Crouch was asked if he would like the honor of introducing the first task. He seemed to be shaken from deep thought by Dumbledore’s voice, and muttered to himself as he approached the three champions.

Once he moved into the firelight, Mark got a better look at the man. He looked sickly, with heavy bags underneath his eyes and papery skin that made his cheekbones stick out.

Crouch cleared his throat.

_“The first task is designed to test your daring,”_

His eyes passed over Fleur, Viktor, and Mark.

_“so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important…”_

He paused a moment, looking over the three champions again. Mark hoped his face mirrored his thoughts.

_They wanted them to have courage in the face of the unknown? Weren’t going to elaborate on the content of the first task? What the fuck?!_

_“The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed with only their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.”_

Crouch nodded, turning to look over his shoulder at Dumbledore.

_“I think that’s all, is it, Albus?”_

Dumbledore nodded in concurrence. Mark’s head was swimming. That had been far _too_ much information. He didn’t even _know_ what the first task was going to be like, and he didn’t even want to begin to _think_ about the second one.

He sighed. Maybe entering this tournament had been a mistake.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Mark woke up the next day, he rolled over, groaning. The events of last night came flooding back to him so quickly it made him dizzy.

He rolled onto his opposite side, looking up when he heard a voice.

_“Like them?”_

Cedric was standing over his bed with some of the other boys, grinning broadly as he pulled on the fabric of his cloak to show Mark a large, round badge on his chest bearing the Huffepuff crest.

Mark wondered if they had cooked those up overnight.

“Very nice,”

He slurred sleepily, making to roll back over when Cedric grabbed onto is arm, pressing the badge into his chest.

_“But that’s not all they do!”_

His smile seemingly widened as the badge changed, bearing black lettering against a yellow background.

_Winner, winner, Fischbach dinner!_

Mark had to suppress a snort at the corny line, but he appreciated Cedric’s effort.

“Thanks, Ced, guys.”

He looked out behind Cedric to smile slightly at the other boys.

Mark took a moment to get dressed and make up his bed before Cedric was dragging him out of the common room. Everywhere they went, people were looking at Mark and girls were whispering frantically to each other. Almost every Hogwarts student that they passed had a _Fischbach dinner_ badge pinned to their chest. It almost made Mark’s heart swell.

Cedric paraded him into the Great Hall like some kind of trophy wife where Mark was met with an onslaught of students.

_“Now, now ladies and gents, give the man some room to breathe. There’ll be plenty of time to fawn over him on the twenty-fourth!”_

Cedric pushed their way through the crowd to the Hufflepuff table, Mark clunking down into his seat. Just because a goblet had spit out his name on a piece of paper he was suddenly what… _famous?_

All around him, Mark saw people staring at him. He felt slightly uncomfortable. He watched a wave of Slytherins enter the Great Hall, some of them sporting yellow badges, surprisingly, but others had patches of grey cloth with a large red emblem pinned to their robes. Mark could only assume it was the Durmstrang crest.

However, Mark couldn’t have been more surprised when he saw Viktor Krum saunter into the hall, a gaggle of girls from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons alike on his tail, with his arm looped around the shoulders of a Slytherin student. Mark had to do a double-take to make sure he was seeing this right.

Held securely under the muscles of Viktor’s arm was none other than Jack. The Slytherin was looking up at the Bulgarian, seemingly engaged in conversation. He looked awkward though. Mark’s eyes drifted to Jack’s chest, and there he saw the patch of grey fabric pinned to his cloak. Mark looked off to the side, somewhat annoyed.

_“What’s wrong?”_

Cedric asked, noting Mark’s sudden discomfort.

“Nothing.”

Mark said, brushing it off as he poured himself a bowl of cereal, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth angrily as he watched Jack and Viktor sit down next to each other.

There was a noise behind Mark, and he turned. He saw Collin Creevy standing there, awestruck.

_“Uh…hi, Mister Fischbach. Your presence is requested by Professor Dumbledore. Uh..um..here…”_

He handed Mark a slip of paper with a room number written on it and a time.

“Gee, thanks.”

Mark tried to give the kid a smile, but it felt more than forced. His attention turned back to Jack, who was still canoodleing with Viktor.

Mark crunched down on his cereal angrily. _Why did that bother him?_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Mark entered a small classroom at the time written on the slip of paper held in his hand. Krum was standing moodily in the corner, his glare shooting daggers at Mark. _Well that’s new._

Fleur had struck up a conversation with Professor Dumbledore, who was nodding vigorously. The headmaster looked up.

_“Ah, Mister Fischbach! Good, now you’re all here. I expect she’ll be arriving shortly. Toodaloo.”_

“But professor!”

Dumbledore was gone before Mark could even get in his question. 

Fleur crossed her arms.

_“Vell, voo are ve vating vor now?”_

There was the sound of shoes clacking on the floor behind the trio and they all turned, seeing a woman garbed in a hideous green-skirted suit enter the room, followed by a paunchy man holding a camera.

He snapped a picture, Mark seeing stars. The man smirked, his camera smoking.

_“Hello, hello darlings. So glad you could all meet me for this little article. I’m Rita Skeeter. I write for the Daily Prophet.”_

She shook Mark’s hand vigorously, then moved on to Fleur and Viktor. The cameraman snapped another picture, this one exclusively of Mark. The Hufflepuff blinked rapidly, pushing down the man’s camera as he rubbed his eye.

“Do you mind?”

He spoke, bitterly. The man shrugged, moving on to snap a few shots of Krum, who posed showily for the camera. Mark all but rolled his eyes.

Soon she had them all organized, Fleur in a chair, Mark and Viktor on either side of her. She stepped back, the camera flashing again.

When the smoke cleared, she was standing there, open-mouth.

_“What a charismatic trio.”_

She licked her upper row of teeth, straightening her horn-rimmed spectacles.

_“Now, it’s you we don’t know. You’re the juicy news.”_

She ran her fingers along Fleur’s cheek before slapping it briskly.

_“What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks?”_

She moved around the group, Fleur wincing.

_“What mysteries do the muscles mask?”_

She scratched her fingernails through Mark’s hair.

_“Does courage lie beneath those curls?”_

She pulled Mark and Viktor against her sides.

_“In short, what makes a champion tick? Me myself and I want to know. Not to mention my raved readers.”_

She laughed in the back of her throat, looking around, her tone suddenly serious.

_“So, who’s feeling up to sharing?”_

Mark’s hair was disheveled as her taloned-fingers dug into his upper arm, tugging him along.

_“Shall we start with home turf? Lovely.”_

Mark was being dragged behind her, into a small space. Her chest was nearly on his.

_“Well this is cozy, isn’t it?”_

Her voice was sly, laced with seduction.

Mark hesitated.

“It’s a broom cupboard.”

Rita Skeeter didn’t have a response to that and instead took up perch on a bucket of paint.

_“Don’t mind if we use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?”_

“Um...no.”

Mark hesitated again as he nearly fell into a box of feather dusters.

She leaned forward, a hand cupping her chin.

_“So, tell me, Mark. What made you enter the tournament? Is there a juicy story somewhere in there?”_

Mark watched the green quill hanging in mid-air begin to scribble madly on a pad, that floating too.

_“Ignore the quill,”_

she said.

“Uh…um…well…my friend and I decided to enter...together…”

Mark cleared his throat, gaining some courage.

“We wanted to enter to show others, particularly those who believe that Hufflepuffs are all of a shy demeanor and are less intelligent than all the other Hogwarts houses that they were wrong.”

_“So you did it to prove a point? Sick of being stepped on?”_

“Yes, exactly.”

Mark thought maybe this interview would go well. Until Skeeter laughed.

_“Oh, darling. That’s boring! Are you sure there isn’t any other reason?”_

Mark bit on his lip, thinking back. _Had he entered the tournament…because of Jack? No. Absolutely not._

_“ What are you thinking there, dear?”_

Rita Skeeter leaned forward more, prying.

“Uh…just well…I went through…this really bad breakup before entering the tournament…”

_“Now that’s what the reader want to hear about!”_

Her eyes seemed to brighten some.

Mark got slightly defensive.

“But the real reason I entered was to show the world that Hufflepuffs are not duffers!”

Skeeter sighed, sitting back in her makeshift chair.

_“Alright, moving on.”_

Mark squirmed uncomfortably.

_“Let’s say you did enter the tournament to showcase the strength of Hufflepuff house.”_

Rita Skeeter waved her hand in the air, mulling through the words.

_“Champions have died in the past. Have you thought about that at all?”_

Mark bit down on his lip.

“I suppose not. But, die if I must, I will play to my fullest in this tournament.”

Mark nodded his head, as if to assure himself.

Skeeter laughed some.

_“Excellent, excellent. Everyone loves a hero, Mark.”_

Mark must have looked confused, because she laughed again.

_“Haha, scratch that last.”_

She said over her shoulder to the quill, which scribbled out the last few sentences on the page.

Mark readjusted, crossing his hands over his knee.

_“So, Mark. How do you feel about the tasks ahead? Excited? Nervous?”_

Mark took a moment to think. Last night he had felt incredibly nervous…but…should he really tell _her_ that?

“Uh…I feel good, I suppose. I mean, there is a whole ‘air of mystery’ to the whole thing, but that makes it all the more exciting.”

He cracked a dashing smile.

_“How alluring.”_

Skeeter fluttered her eyelids at him, smiling in return.

_“Hypothetically, if the events of this tournament were to turn…tragic…is there a special someone you would leave behind that would be…devastated?”_

Mark stuttered.

“I’m sorry?”

_“A little birdie told me that you and Cedric Diggory have been spending an awful lot of time together.”_

Mark’s face flushed as she smiled maliciously at him.

_“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, dear. You two make a dynamite couple.”_

“No, no. We’re not—I mean…”

_“Is there someone else?”_

She pried. The quill scribbled frantically across the page. Mark leaned forward to read some of the slanted green writing.

_When death is brought to the table, his eyes swim with unshed tears at the thought of leaving that special someone behind. But the real question is, does Mister Fischbach’s heart belong to a certain Cedric Diggory?_

“I told you,”

Mark growled slightly.

“Cedric and I are just friends!”

_“Steady, dear.”_

Skeeter smiled.

_“Does this other someone have a name?”_

Mark took an uneven breath, loosening his tie. _I can’t possibly bring up Jack…_

He stood quickly, knocking over a box of Magical Mess Remover.

“Even if he did, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you.”

He picked up her hand, shaking it briskly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Skeeter. I think I’ll take my leave now.”

Mark dropped the reporter’s hand, leaving her frazzled as he exited the broom cupboard, walking back out into the classroom. He must have look flabbergasted, for Fleur and Krum stared at him.

_“Oh, Miss Delacour? You next dear.”_

Fleur gulped at Skeeter’s singsong voice, heading off slowly in the direction of the broom cupboard.

Mark however, indignantly grabbed his bag and rushed out of the classroom, wanting no more to do with that horrible woman.

He had no more than stepped outside the classroom when he nearly smacked headlong into Cedric.

_“Well, how was it?”_

The other Hufflepuff asked eagerly, practically bouncing up and down. Mark sighed, taking Cedric’s arm.

“There’s something you should probably know before you read it in the papers, Ced.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roughly a fortnight had passed between Mark being selected champion and now. Cedric’s constant companionship was the only thing keeping him sane at the current point. The pressure was really on. Being Hogwart’s champion came with both its perks, and its disadvantages.

Mark felt like he was never alone. There were always hordes of people around him, slapping him on the back or shoving pieces of paper in his face for him to sign. Mark had dreaded the day that Skeeter’s massive article appeared in the _Daily Prophet._

_Mark Fischbach: Hogwarts Champion’s Secret Love Affair?_

Mark hadn’t wanted to read anymore of the unjust editorial, seeing Cedric’s name appear several times, along with some rubbish about Mark having a “secret lover.”

He had tossed the paper into the fireplace to use as kindling, not wanting to keep _that_ as a souvenir. The other articles hadn’t been that much better anyway.

Mark was growing steadily more and more nervous as the appending date of the first task drew nearer. He knew no more than he had learned that first night in the trophy room, and that scared the hell out of him.

He felt like he was walking into the situation blind, and it was freaking him out. Cedric told him not to worry, that everything would work out. Mark told him

“easy for you to say.”

It was only about a week to go before the first task when Mark entered the common room, bone-tired. All he wanted was his bed and some peace and quiet. _For once._ Ever since being selected champion, it was like having a never-ending headache.

He flopped down on his quilt, jamming the heels of his hands into his eyes when Cedric came up alongside him.

_“This is for you.”_

He handed Mark an envelope. He sat up.

“Who’s it from?”

The other Hufflepuff shrugged, taking a bite out of his apple.

Mark pursed his lips, tearing open the envelope. He pulled out a single sheet of folded parchment, scrawled upon in purple ink.

_I. Dragons_

That was all it said. Mark frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mark held the slip of paper in front of his face, scouring the single line again.

_“Lemme see?”_

Mark handed Cedric the slip of paper, where the other boy scanned the single line of regal purple ink with his grey eyes.

_“Dragons?”_

Mark began to pace around the bedchamber, thinking. He scratched every inch of his brain, trying to think up an answer. He looked at Cedric, who was still reading the sheet when something on the back caught his eye. Mark approached Cedric, turning his neck to read the small bit of purple ink scratched in the corner of the sheet.

_11.24_

“Wait a minute. Ced, look!”

Mark pointed to the ink on the back.

“What if that’s the date of the first task, the twenty-fourth of November?!”

Cedric’s brows shot up.

_“And…and…”_

He pointed frantically to the front of the sheet, the paper fluttering under his touch.

_“What if this roman numeral one stands for the first task?!”_

Mark snapped his fingers, pointing to Cedric. He came up next to the Hufflepuff, taking back the sheet of paper.

“And what if this,”

He pointed to the word _Dragons._

“What if _dragons_ are the first task?!”

He and Cedric exchanged a tense look.

_“Geeze…dragons Mark?”_

Mark gulped. Now _this_ wasn’t something he was ready for.

_“Are you ok? You look a little pale.”_

Cedric put his hand on Mark’s arm, looking concerned.

“I-I’m yeah…oh yeah…”

He wandered over to his desk, picking up his bag, slinging one strap over his shoulder.

He began to back out of the bedchamber, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“I’m just gonna go to the library…do some research…y’know…”

He kept backing up when Cedric yelled, cringing.

_“Door!”_

Mark smacked into the doorframe, Cedric’s hands flying up to cover his face.

“I’m good.”

Mark said.

“It’s all good.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His heart was pounding madly as he walked to the library. His hand was gripping the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

 _Dragons?_ How the _hell_ was he supposed to…

What was he supposed to do? _Battle_ a _dragon?_

Mark took a moment to stop, leaning against the wall. He put his hand over his chest, trying to calm his heartbeat.

Once he was calm, he continued his trek to the library. He walked up the steps, putting his hands on his hips, trying to decide where to start.

He walked over to the section on spells and started scouring the shelves. He found a particularly interesting book about battling and taming beasts that he took off the shelf.

Next, he took the library’s copy of Goshawk’s _Standard Book of Spells_ with him, figuring there might be something useful in there.

He took Ravenhurst’s _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ with him, hoping his strongest subject could aid him in the task.

Mark stilled, suddenly realizing that all of these books weren’t going to help him in the least if he didn’t know anything about dragons.

He looked up, spotting Hermione across the way. He figured he might as well ask the girl who spent half her life in the library for a few book recommendations. He slowly approached the Gryffindor.

“Hey Hermione.”

She turned at the sound of her name, but the cheerful look on her face fell immediately when her eyes settled on Mark.

_“Oh. Hi Mark.”_

Her tone was clipped, and she didn’t pay much attention to the Hufflepuff. Mark noted that she was acting weird.

“Listen, you look busy right now but I was just wondering if you had any recommendations for me. You see, I…”

He laughed to try and ease up some of the awkward tension hanging in the air.

“I’ve got this COMC essay due in a few days on dragons…and well…I thought I'd do some research. Got any good books about dragons?”

Hermione turned back to him, a sour look plastered across her face. She flicked her wand at the shelves, a book floating down. She grabbed it and smacked it painfully against Mark’s chest.

_“I’d start here.”_

Her voice sounded angry. Mark looked down at the book. Newt Scamander’s _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

“Um…um ok.”

Hermione had pulled a pad out of her bag and began scribbling madly on it. She ripped off the sheet of paper, thrusting it at Mark.

_“I don’t know why I’m helping you.”_

Mark was slightly taken aback.

“Uh, maybe because we’re on the same team here.”

Hermione suddenly got very angry.

 _“We are_ not _the same. Don’t ever compare us.”_

The Gryffindor had raised her voice, attracting some attention as she pointed her wand menacingly at Mark.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?”

Mark asked crossly.

“All I did was ask a question!”

Hermione turned on her heel to leave before she turned all the way around and whacked Mark on the head with the newspaper she had been carrying.

_“How dare you say that to him! How could you do such a thing?!”_

Mark was confused.

“What are you talking about?!”

Hermione smacked him again.

_“How could you say that to him?!”_

“To who?!”

_“To Jack!”_

Mark stilled.

“You talked to Jack?”

Hermione’s face was red, and she looked at Mark, seething.

_“How could you say that to him?”_

She had lowered her voice.

“Because he said that he didn’t love me! That it had all been a lie!”

Hermione didn’t say much for a long while. She collected her books from the shelf they had been sitting on, turning.

_“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Good luck, Mark.”_

The Gryffindor took her stack of books, her newspaper tucked under her arm and she disappeared around a row of shelves. Mark stood, dumbfounded. _What did any of that mean?! When had she talked to Jack?! What did he say?!_

Mark could hardly concentrate now. But he looked down at the list in his hand that Hermione had hurriedly written in royal blue ink.

_ Dragons _

_-Fantastical Beasts vol. XXIII, Derby, Estwitt, et. all_

_-Everything you need to know about Dragons, Farnsworth_

_-Dragons: Behavioral Elements, Poughkeepsie_

_-Dragons: Tracking and Identification Guide, Violeta_

_-Taming and domestication of Dragons, Schmedd (restricted section)_

_-A Beginner’s Guide to Dragons, Allmanvetta_

_-Talk to Hagrid. He’s had “experience” with dragons before._

_-Also, Ron. Weasley. His brother Charlie works with them in Romania._

Mark sighed, looking down at the list. He took it up to the circulation desk and asked about all of the books, except for the one written by Schmedd. The librarian was happy to show Mark where all the books were, and he was left with a heaping stack of books that was taller than he was.

“Oh boy.”

He figured maybe he should go and find Cedric to help him carry all of these.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Both Hufflepuffs sat hefty stacks of books down on the floor of their bedchamber, Cedric wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

_“Phew. What did you do? Rent out the whole library?”_

Mark didn’t really answer, he just picked up the copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and began absently flipping through the pages.

_“Are you ok?”_

Mark set the book down on the bed, sighing loudly.

“I ran into Granger in the library, she was the one who suggested all of these books.”

_“And?”_

“And she had her wand in a knot! She really ripped me a new one, Ced.”

_“About what? Books?”_

“No!”

Mark paused.

“Jack...”

_“Jack?”_

Mark nodded.

_“What about Jack?”_

“I don’t know. I guess she and him had a conversation. She was really bent out of shape about something I said to him…”

Mark closed his eyes, covering his face, moaning.

“Oh no.”

_“Oh no what?”_

“Granger must know that I called him a mudblood…”

_“Oh. That’s not good.”_

“Dammit all…”

Mark sighed. Whelp. That explained why Hermione was so pissed off.

_“Mark,”_

Cedric began, but Mark waved his hand at him.

“How about we just focus on the task at hand?”

Mark pursed his lips.

“Poor choice of words. But why don’t we just do some research, ok?”

_“Ok…”_

Cedric closed his mouth, picking up one of the thick books before he left the room. Mark sighed. He hadn’t meant to snap at Cedric like that. He was his best friend. But these past few days had been far from easy. He had to worry about the Tournament and now he had to worry about Jack. He thought that he had let go of Jack.

_Apparently not._


	4. Baby, look what you've done to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Mark had been selected Hogwart's champion, that didn't mean that all the heat was off Jack. Damn Rita Skeeter and her stupid article, now all the girls in the school wanted to kill him. After a few mishaps, Jack realizes that maybe it's time to come to terms with his feelings. However, he's going to need some help from a certain Ravenclaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I'm back at it again with a brand spankin' new chapter for you guys! Hope you all had (or are having) a happy holiday!! I would like to mention that there is a small NSFW snippet in this chapter, if you'd like to skip over that then feel free to do so. This chapter was a little bugger to write, don't ask me why, but it's been added to and revised so many times I can't even remember how many times that's been, lol! :) But, next chapter will be task numero uno!! Exciting stuff to come!! Hope you are all hungry for some more drama, because it is far from over :D <3 PF

Jack took a deep breath in through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. His forehead and hands were pressed against the wall of the stall. He was freaking _the fuck_ out. He had transfiguration in ten minutes and he didn’t know how he could possibly face anyone in that room, let alone _Mark._

Jack took another deep breath. He need to _stop._

“Stop…stop it…”

He coached himself. He breathed out once more before unlocking the door and exiting the bathroom.

Transfiguration was going to be a mixed class since the tournament had started, meaning all different houses and perhaps even different grade levels. Jack had gotten his schedule a few days ago. Upon entering McGonagall’s classroom, Jack gulped. There were an awful lot of people in here. And a lot of them were looking. _At him._

Jack didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but he had seen that article Rita Skeeter had published. And he had _also_ seen the little blurb in Viktor’s section about his “sudden romantic fascination with a green-haired English boy.”

He felt his face flush up instantly. He spied an empty seat by Luna and quickly ducked into it so quickly that the chair went up on two legs. The Ravenclaw turned to him.

_“Are you alright, Sean? You look flushed.”_

Her hand came up onto his cheek, sliding over his forehead. Jack took her by the wrist rather sharply, removing her hand.

“I’m _fine_ Luna. Really.”

He softened his tone.

Luna however, stiffened.

_“You’re lying. And I know that for a fact. I can see all the nargles.”_

Jack pursed his lips for a moment, but didn’t say anything. He reached down and removed his transfiguration book from his bag, looking up. Towards the front of the room, Jack saw Mark and Cedric sitting close together.

Something inside of him twisted, and an awful, retching noise escaped him. A hand flew to cover first his mouth and then his stomach.

Luna twisted in her chair to help him. She rubbed his back, cooing softly.

_“It’s alright. You’re alright.”_

Somehow, she seemed to know what agitated the Slytherin, and attempted to distract him by grabbing onto his hand, offering to give him a palm reading. She looked at a long line stretching from his Jupiter finger (the index) to his Mercury finger (the pinkie), humming.

_“Your heart line is quite long, Sean. This one too.”_

She pointed to a smaller line on the outside edge of his palm.

_“This line is the marriage line,”_

She explained calmly.

_“It indicates a strong emotional bond between you and another person.”_

Her eyes unintentionally flickered to Mark. Jack grunted, attempting to pull his hand away.

_“Wait, wait, wait.”_

She looked at an oblong line underneath his Saturn finger (the middle) and his Apollo finger (the ring) with her brows knitted. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were full of concern.

_“Are you really alright, Sean?”_

Jack finally managed to pull his hand away.

“Yes! Why do you keep asking me that?”

_“Because,”_

Luna said, taking back his hand. She pointed to the cupped line beneath his Saturn and Apollo fingers.

_“Your Girdle of Venus is deep. This indicates a person who has strong emotional fluxes. And…judging by the recent turn of events…”_

She looked up at Mark and Cedric again, then looked down, chiding herself.

_“I just want to help you, Sean. I’m your friend.”_

Jack looked at her irately.

He was about to give her some snide remark, but he pushed it down. _Luna was right. They were friends._

“You got all that from just a few lines on my hand?”

Luna smiled slightly, making her appear more elvish than usual. She tucked a strand of light blonde hair behind her ear and picked up both of Jack’s hands, holding them within her own.

_“You know you can tell me anything, Sean. I want nothing more than to help you. I gain nothing from your misery. However, others…”_

Her eyes drifted across the room to land on Malfoy.

_“May find it most amusing.”_

Luna squeezed his hands tightly.

_“When you’re ready, ok?”_

Jack nodded slightly and Luna let go, stooping to pull her book from her bag. She opened it up, neatly smoothing the pages. She pulled her quill from her bag too, and began writing notes in the margin of the page in regal purple ink.

Jack opened up his book, folding his hands on top of it. Professor McGonagall entered the room.

_“Good morning class. Now, let us begin. Please turn to page 309 in your books, we will begin working on transformation of water today.”_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Transfiguration had ended. And Jack felt like he needed a nap. He stepped out of the crowded classroom into the equally crowded corridor, talking a moment to just breathe.

He heard a nasty voice to his left.

_“Hey! McLoughlin!”_

Jack didn’t even know why he turned.

Draco was grinning maliciously at him, flashing a folded newspaper at him.

_“Got your picture in the paper. Make you happy, mudblood?”_

Jack gritted his teeth.

“What did you just call me?”

Draco looked over his shoulder at Crabbe, as if he couldn’t believe this. He laughed spitefully.

_“I called you a mudblood. Just like your precious Fischbach apparently.”_

Jack stilled, his fists balling up at his sides.

“ _What_ did you just say?”

Jack took a step forward.

_“Poor baby talks in his sleep.”_

Draco took up a mocking tone.

_“Mark…no Mark…how could you...can hear you rooms away.”_

Draco’s smirk broke into a wicked grin. He thought that he had gotten Jack. But the other Slytherin simply smiled back.

“Oh. Oh, that’s rich. Wanna talk about talking in your sleep? How about you?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah,”

Jack said, spite in his own voice.

“How about this one.”

Jack closed his eyes, throwing his head back. He ran his hands over his neck.

“Harry! Oh _Harry!”_

Jack bucked his hips for emphasis. When he opened his eyes, Draco’s face was tinged pink.

A small group of students had gathered around them, a few chuckling behind their hands at Jack’s comment.

“Did you wear those little panties for him too? Y’know, those ones with the little bows?”

Jack held tweaked fingertips at his hipbones, mimicking holding up an article of clothing.

Draco gaped momentarily.

_“How-”_

Jack howled with laughter, slapping his hands together, doubling over.

“Oh, that is rich! Ahha! I was just making shit up! But to hear that is actually true! Oh, what a hoot!”

Several of the students gathered around them had broken out in laughter. Draco’s face turned a deep shade of red. He looked like he was going to explode.

_“You shut your mouth, filthy mudblood!”_

Jack straightened up, brushing tears from his eyes.

“Go ahead and say it all you want. It really doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”

Jack spread out his arms.

“Go on.”

_“At least I’m not a mudblood baby crying for his mummy in the night!”_

Suddenly, Jack stopped laughing. All the color in his face rushed away, leaving him pale.

“What-what did you just say?”

Draco’s lip regained some of its curdle.

_“Poor mudblood lost his mummy.”_

Jack swallowed.

“Don’t you _ever_ talk about my mother.”

_“Mum! No!”_

Draco howled.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

Jack lunged at the other Slytherin, gripping him around the waist, tackling him to the ground. The air got knocked out of the blond as they both hit the ground. Jack’s fist collided with Draco’s face, a spurt of blood splattering across Jack’s cheek. The crowd of students got rowdier, someone yelling

_“fight!!”_

Jack pressed his knee into Draco’s gut, the other boy gasping. But Draco still managed to rasp out

_“miss your filthy muggle mother, McLoughlin?”_

He smiled cruelly at Jack with bloodied teeth, who slapped the other boy so hard across the face the sound resonated through the space. Draco’s face was bright red, Jack’s hand imprinted in the skin of his cheek. Jack whipped out his wand, pushing the wooden baton underneath Draco’s chin.

“Say it once more.”

He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Say it. And I will blow your _fucking_ head off in front of all these lovely people,”

Jack gestured to the spectators with his free hand.

“And I will decorate the walls with the inside of your head.”

Draco seemingly gulped. Jack was practically foaming at the mouth. He grabbed Draco by his shirt collar, yanking him close to his face.

“ _Never_ talk about her _again._ Or I _will_ do it. You can _count_ on that.”

He let go of the quaking Slytherin, who thudded back onto his elbows. Jack stood, grabbing his bag which must have gotten discarded in the fight. People were staring at him, moving out of his way like he was Moses parting the Red Sea.

Once everyone had moved out of his way, he saw Luna standing there in the middle of where all those people had been. She had her books clutched to her chest, staring at him open-mouth. Jack stopped in front of her, but then he shook his head, taking off down the hall.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had hidden out in the forest for hours, for the fear of Malfoy tattling. But Jack had a feeling the other Slytherin wouldn’t say a goddamn word.

All Jack really wanted a was hot shower and bed. He had trekked back to the castle and taken his toilet things with him.

He let out a heavy breath, stripping off his clothes, pulling his sweater over his head, unknotting the tie, unbuckling his slacks. He hissed as he pushed down his trousers and pants, seeing his dick hard for no reason, curled up against the flat plane of his stomach.

“Really?”

He hissed through his teeth.

_Now was not the time for this bullshit._

Jack stepped into the little cubicle, fiddling with the taps of the shower. He turned the water all the way over to hot, letting the spray scald his skin. He dropped his head, letting the water soak his hair.

He leaned his hands forward against the wall, shaking his wet bangs back and forth, taking a breath. He slowly put his shoulders down, which had been hunched up underneath his ears for what felt like ages. He rolled the taut muscles out.

He took the bar of soap, sliding it over his fingers, coating his skin. He looked around. He was alone. Shakily, his hand dropped between his legs, soapy fingers stroking his neglected length. Jack dropped his neck back, a rough sound escaping his throat. Every muscle seemed to be held stiff within his body.

He ran his free hand up his neck, twisting his occupied hand harshly, close to the base.

He hadn’t done this in _weeks._ It felt _needed._ Jack swallowed thickly, pumping his hand up and down the engorged member.

He let a few breathy gaps escape him. He wailed at the feeling, a tirade of want rushing over him, the pain clenching deep in his belly.

But he wanted to keep it at bay, make this moment last.

He yanked his hand sharply to the left, mewling. His free hand went to the wall, his knees quaking. He arched his back, eyes closing as hard gasps escaped him.

“M…mmm…”

He was stringing syllables together, a word forming.

“Mar..”

Jack twisted harder, yelping. The pain in his belly intensified.

He took a breath though his mouth, panting.

“Mark…”

The single word left his lips at a whisper, Jack cringing with the crippling effort of keeping his orgasm at bay.

It was unconsciously that Jack had said the name, and behind his eyes he began to picture the Hufflepuff's hand on him rather than his own. Jack ran a hand up through his drenched hair, raking his nails down his neck.

The hard, hot heat coiled tighter in his belly, his cock swelling slightly in his grip. Jack's face was twisted with the effort of forcing back his release, and the muscles in his upper arm were twitching.

A sound escaped him, a bubble of air bursting out of his chest. And then he was coming, overflowing in his fist, ropes of white dripping down between his knuckles.

Jack sighed, taking several deep breaths. He leaned into the wall directly behind him, putting his sticky hand under the spray of the shower, rinsing it off. He ran his hands up his face, gasping.

Heat had shot through his body, but he felt like his cheeks were singed pink with embarrassment.

He looked around quickly to make sure the bath was still empty. He stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck. He lost his balance momentarily on the slippery floor, flailing his arms to regain his balance.

_Why had he said that? Why his name?_

Was there some part of him deep down inside that still wanted Mark? Wanted to forgive him?

Jack covered his face again, his mind reeling. _This_ was too much. He couldn’t say that he didn’t want the Hufflepuff and yet still wank off to his memory.

No _something_ inside of him warmed at the thought of the Hufflepuff's memory. His skin. His smile. His scent.

If Jack's face wasn’t already wet with shower spray, he would have noticed tears on his pasty skin. He sniffled, thinking now of how Mark was happy without him. He had been _replaced_. And with a _pureblood_ none the less.

Jack wiped his nose on his forearm, shaking his head. He wiped at his face roughly with his thumb. He cried _far too much_ lately. He needed to stop otherwise people were going to think he was a nancy boy or something.

He continued his wash, letting the spray hit his face. He guessed there was only one explanation for his little erotic session.

_He missed Mark._

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Jack was nearly falling asleep at the breakfast table the next morning. His eyes groggily snapped open. He saw Malfoy scowling at him from the other end of the table, a nice shiner around his right eye.

Jack looked down at his hand, the knuckles crusted in dried blood, the joints bruised.

He lowered his eyes back to the plate of toast in front of him, a feeling blanketing him that made him extremely uncomfortable.

These days, Jack had been receiving _a lot_ of unwanted attention. People were always gawking at him, or girls were shooting him looks that would surely kill him if looks could kill. And it was all because of Rita Skeeter and her stupid fucking article.

Speak of the devil. Jack pulled the thick copy of the _Daily Prophet_ closer to him with his hand, turning it over. His eyes fell across Mark’s animated picture, the Hufflepuff looking extremely surprised.

His eyes skimmed the headline.

_Mark Fischbach: Hogwarts Champion’s Secret Love Affair?_

He scoffed, sticking some toast into his mouth as he read on, noting Diggory’s name a few more times than he would have cared for. He stopped, though, nearly choking on his toast.

_Despite rumors of Mister Fischbach’s relationship with fellow Hufflepuff house member, Cedric Diggory, there seems to be another. When questioned, Mister Fischbach seemed slightly defensive, unwilling to offer up the name of his alleged secret beau. No other information given other than his indication, this mystery man seems to have certainly struck a chord with our champion here. He dashed out of the interview like a rabbit late for tea, as flustered as a Fwooper having its feathers plucked._

Jack gaped at the article. He retraced the lines with his finger, making sure he had read it right.

_Was the article talking about him? Why would Mark be defensive? And flustered?_

Jack sat back slightly, his head feeling cloudy.

What the _fuck?_

If Jack wasn’t confused before, he certainly was now. None of this made sense. Why would Mark even _hint_ at the idea of him in the article. _Unless he hadn’t meant to? But then he had to have been thinking about me? He’s thinking about me?_

Jack shook his head.

_Surely not._

Mark had _certainly_ made sure Jack knew where their relationship stood. But somehow… _somehow_ Jack felt like there was still something there.

He turned around in his seat, searching the hall. He didn’t know how he didn’t spot the Hufflepuff sooner, he stood out like a sore thumb with the crowd of “fans” huddled around him.

Something had clenched up in the pit of Jack’s gut. He abandoned his toast and pulled the folded newspaper off the table, stalking over to the Hufflepuff table. But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks.

He turned away from the Hufflepuff tabled, heading back to the Slytherin table, snatching up his bag roughly and stormed out of the hall.

He hurried through the hallways, not caring who he bumped or pushed.

Once he was out of sight and earshot, he covered his face with his hands, letting out a strangled sob.

He couldn’t believe this. That Mark would actually _extort_ their relationship to spice up some lame-ass article. _Had it all been a lie? Did Mark really just…use him?_ He knew he hadn’t been ready to spill the “l-word” at that moment…but…but now…now…now he didn’t think he’d ever be able to love such a… _wait. Love him?_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Jack needed to clear head after the morning’s events. He just couldn’t take it any longer. _Any_ of it. He had disappeared from the castle, skipping both charms and history of magic.

His arms were resting on his knees, tears pouring down his cheeks. The Thestral nudged him with its nose.

“Not now, girl.”

He said, sullen.

There was the sound of branches creaking behind him, followed by a voice.

_“I thought I might find you here.”_

Jack rubbed at his eyes with his shirt. Luna came into view, huddled up in a blue jumper. She cocked her head, a curtain of blonde hair falling over her face.

_“What’s the matter?”_

“Nothing.”

Jack choked.

Luna approached the Thestral and rubbed its nose.

“You can see her?”

Jack asked, surprised.

Luna turned to him, pulling a cut of meat from her bag to give the beast. She took up a seat next to Jack on an old rotting log.

_“My mum died when I was nine.”_

She rocked forward slightly, speaking as if the topic weren’t one of graveness.

“I never knew that…”

Jack looked off to the side.

“I’m sorry…”

Luna looked at him.

_“Why can you see her?”_

Jack gulped.

“Uh…because…because…”

He closed his eyes.

_They had been on Shaftesbury Avenue. It was late. Mum was tired. She had worked a long day. He was talking to her. The radio was on. She was laughing, smiling, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his knee. She had been looking at him, not seeing the stop sign, running right through it. He had screamed for her to stop, but it was too late. There was a horrible, awful crunching sound. He could hear her. He yelled her name over and over again. There was glass everywhere. He was bleeding. He shook her body. She slumped forward. “Mum! Mum!” His screams were futile. There were flashing lights, blaring sirens. A man from the fire brigade was pulling him from the bashed car. He was gasping for breath, screaming her name. He was handed off to paramedics. He called for her. They told him she was dead. Dead. That one word. So simple. So archaic. It changed his life. Turned his whole world upside fucking down. How could she be gone?_

_“Sean?”_

Luna touched his knee and his eyes snapped back to her suddenly, like a person’s being awoken from sleep.

“Because my mum died too. When I was ten.”

He took a breath, recounting to Luna the traumatic accident. How he had pined for her for months. How he thought it was all _his_ fault.

Luna just sat there, listening to the whole thing. She wouldn’t even ask the occasional question. She just _listened._ He hadn’t even realized he had been crying until her hand came up to brush his cheek.

_“Why are you crying Sean?”_

The words just came spilling out, one after another.

“Because I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.”

_“Lose who?”_

“Mark.”

He blurted.

_“Why would you lose him?”_

“Because…”

_“Because why?”_

Jack rammed the heels of his hands into his eyes, jumping to his feet, skidding slightly in the damp leaves.

“Because he’s entered this fucking tournament! Christ almighty, Luna, I can’t…I can’t do this! I can’t do this _again!_ ”

_“What do you mean? I’m not sure I understand.”_

“I can’t _lose_ him! He can’t die on me!”

He sat back down, covering his face.

_“You’re afraid that Mark will die?”_

Jack nodded his head up and down. Luna’s expression changed.

“I think that’s why I’m realizing it just now.”

Jack spoke, muffled.

_“Realizing what?”_

Luna gently pulled his hands away, holding them within her own.

_“Realizing what?”_

She repeated.

“That I love him.”

A small smile bent up the corners of the Ravenclaw’s mouth. She shook Jack’s hands. He breathed. It felt like a weight was gone.

“I can’t lose him Luna. I’m not ready.”

He spoke again, tearful.

Luna leaned forward and kissed him gently.

She sat back.

“What was that for?”

_“Courage.”_

She said softly.

“Courage for what?”

_“You have to tell him.”_

“No.”

Jack said protectively.

“Absolutely not.”

_“Why not?”_

“Because.”

_“Because why?”_

She bantered playfully.

“Because I’m just not ready.”

Luna shuffled herself around on the log, taking back her hands. She pointed to her chest.

_“Pretend I’m him.”_

Jack scoffed.

“This is absurd.”

Luna patted her thighs.

_“Go on, just do it.”_

Jack ran a hand through his hair, agitated.

“Oh god, I’m rubbish at these kinds of things. I can’t just say it!”

_“Just say how you feel.”_

Luna coached.

“Ngh…god…I…lord Mark…it took this tournament…the sudden prospect of utter and sudden death for me to realize this…realize how stupid I’ve been…how stupid we’ve both been…and I don’t know if there’s ever any way I can ever forgive what you’ve done to me…but…Christ…I love you…you git…honest to god I do…and maybe…I can find it somewhere in my heart to forgive you…”

Luna smiled.

_“You’re ready.”_

Jack snorted.

“That was absolute bunkum.”

_“No, it wasn’t.”_

Luna pressed her hand over the left side of Jack’s chest.

_“Because it came from within here. And that’s all that matters.”_

Jack leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek.

“Don’t let them tell you you’re crazy.”

He pulled her in for a hug.

“Thank you, Luna.”

She pressed her chin into his shoulder.

_“Just remember, have courage and be kind. It will all fall into place.”_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Jack was standing outside Hagrid’s hut with the gamekeeper, helping to gather some food to take to the Mooncalves in the COMC pens. He picked up his bucket, Hagrid clearing his throat to break the silence.

_“How’r ya feel’n about all’er this tournament stuff?”_

He looked down at Jack, who shrugged.

“I’m not crazy about it.”

_“An ter think that Mark will be representin ‘ogwarts. It’s grand, isn’ it?”_

Jack didn’t answer, he just lugged his bucket along.

_“You al’righ there Jack?”_

“I-it’s just…I wish I knew something to help him out, you know?”

_“Wha were ye thinking?”_

Jack shrugged.

“I dunno. If I knew something about the first task that would surely help. Did you hear that they didn’t even tell the champions what it was?”

Hagrid let out a hardy laugh.

_“Well that’d be the dragons.”_

Jack stopped dead in his tracks.

“Dragons?”

He blurted, dumbfounded.

Hagrid swallowed thickly.

_“I shouldn’t have told you that. I should not have told you that.”_

The gamekeeper began to walk hurriedly along with his bucket of Mooncalf food.

“Wait wait wait.”

Jack ran in front of him, sloshing some feed out of his bucket.

“ _Dragons_ Hagrid? That’s really the first task?”

Hagrid nodded.

“Can you show me?”

The gamekeeper didn’t respond, just moved around Jack and continued down the moonlit path.

“Hagrid! Please! You don’t understand!”

Jack ran to fall back in line with Hagrid’s massive steps. They arrived at the pens, the herd of Mooncalves looking up, their big, bulging eyes glowing in the night. Hagrid continued along, unlatching the pen before Jack ran in front of him, blocking his path.

“Hagrid, please. I need to help…someone.”

His arms were spread across the walls of the pen to keep the warden from going through. With his free hand, Hagrid cocked it on his hip.

_“An this ‘someone’ wouldn’t happen to be a Hufflepuff, now would they?”_

Jack smiled sheepishly.

“Please. He could die, Hagrid.”

Hagrid grimaced at the word _die._

_“Let’s jus say that, if someone were lookin’ for some stuff, all they’d have to do was go into the forest and find Charlie Weasley.”_

Hagrid looked around quickly as if someone might hear their conversation out in the middle of the pasture in the dead of night.

_“But you didn’t hear that from me.”_

Jack was dishing out the Mooncalf pellets in his bucket. The beasts were crowding around him, eating out of the palm of his hand. He giggled at the feeling of their lips on his palm. He petted one of the spindly grey animals.

He looked over his shoulder at Hagrid.

“Can you show me?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“I really shouldn’t be doin this.”_

Jack thanked him profusely. And more profuse and he’d giving the scruffy gamekeeper a blow in the middle of the forest.

They had walked deeper into the forest than Jack had ever been with Hagrid before or on his own. They were so far into the woods that both the castle and the lake were out of sight. Jack was wondering where exactly Hagrid was taking him when he heard men shouting up ahead. There was a flash of bright light that started the hell out of Jack, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“What the hell?”

Hagrid led him around a thicket of trees when there was a deafening roar. Jack’s mouth fell open as they got closer.

_Dragons._

Never before had he seen something like this. There were three enormous beasts as big as the skyscrapers in the metropolitan back home. They were enclosed in a large pen surrounded by wooden spikes and wranglers shooting jinxes into the air.

Jack’s eyes were wide. There was one dragon, green and smaller than the rest, sending spires of smoke into the air which it puffed from its nostrils.

He let out a cloud of exasperated breath, eyes wide in awe.

Jack stepped closer.

There was another dragon, on its hind legs. This one was scarlet, the flames of the torches glinting off of its smooth skin.

And then Jack saw a third dragon and stilled, something inside of him telling him that there was something special about this one.

It was jet black, with wings like a bat and an arrow-tipped tail. It turned, as if sensing that someone was there. It stuck its neck out somewhat over the spiked fence of the enclosure, turning its massive purple eyes to Jack.

_Don’t hurt him. Please._

That was all Jack could ask of it. He feared that _this dragon_ was _Mark’s dragon._ There was just this _feeling_ about it that he had.

_“So, you like the Hebridean, huh?”_

Jack turned, looking into the face of another wizard, his gloved hands crossed over his chest. He had a broad smile, a smattering of freckles across his nose, or what appeared to be freckles in the torchlight, and fiery red hair that rivaled that of the Fireball.

_“Charlie Weasley.”_

He extended his hand to Jack, who clasped it.

“Ja—Sean. McLoughlin.”

Charlie smiled.

_“Ron’s mentioned you a few times in his letters. Seeker, right?”_

Jack nodded.

“Yeah. Captain now.”

_“Captain? Blimey. How ya liking it?”_

Jack laughed a little.

“It’s fair. A right pain in the arse though.”

The elder Weasley smirked.

_“I bet it is.”_

“So…”

Jack started suddenly.

“Did you bring all these dragons here?”

Charlie beamed proudly.

_“You betcha. All the way from Romania.”_

The Hebridean Black craned its sinewy neck again, roaring lightly at Jack.

_“I think she likes you.”_

Charlie chuckled.

“She?”

Jack echoed.

Charlie nodded.

_“Yeah. They wanted nesting mothers. Don’t ask me why. Not only are the females bigger, but they’re far more dangerous. Especially when they’re guarding their young.”_

Jack swallowed thickly.

“So, she’s a Hebridean Black,”

Jack pointed to the one with the great big purple eyes staring at him.

“And that one,”

He pointed at the bright red one with the mushroom cloud of fire,

“That’s a Chinese Fireball, right?”

Charlie nodded.

“And she,”

Jack pointed to the smaller green dragon on the other side of the enclosure.

“She’s a Welsh Green, right?”

Charlie chuckled.

_“Very good! You giving me a run for my money?”_

Jack smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. Not tryin’ to. I just…study a lot…with Hagrid…”

Charlie looked down at him, examining his uniform for a moment.

_“Never met a Slytherin before who liked to study.”_

Jack shrugged.

“Then I guess I’m a different kind of Slytherin.”

Charlie pointed to Jack’s bruised knuckles, which were beginning to heal.

_“How’d you get those? Hagrid isn’t still keeping that Murtlap around, is he?”_

Jack chuckled.

“No no. I got it from Malfoy.”

_“Is that some kind of new species?”_

Apparently, Charlie hadn’t heard of the infamous Malfoys.

“You could say that. Like a weasel.”

Charlie nodded, jotting something down in a little moleskin notebook he had pulled from his pocket. A voice boomed out.

_“Charlie!”_

_“Hey, Hagrid! How have you been?”_

Charlie beamed at the gamekeeper, pointing to him with his thumb.

_“Taught me everything I know. You’re lucky to have him as a teacher.”_

Jack grinned, concurring.

_“Say,”_

Hagrid said, looking down at Charlie.

_“How’s Norbert doing?”_

Charlie frowned for a moment, pulling out his little notebook again. He rifled through it.

_“Norbert? Oh, you mean the Norwegian Ridgeback?”_

Charlie laughed.

_“Well, we call her Norberta now. Actually, she’s just found a nesting mate. Right smart couple they do make. Never seen a Ridgeback and a Longhorn take before. Bet they’ll do great things for the reserve.”_

Charlie put his hands on his hips, scratching the back of his neck.

_“So, Sean. Are you doing an assignment for Hagrid here? A little “extra credit” shall we say?”_

Jack felt his cheeks flush. _He wasn’t supposed to be here. Hagrid could get in trouble._

“Something like that.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack had hardly slept the night through, his hair disheveled and his shirt untucked as he dashed to breakfast the next morning, skidding around the corner into the Great Hall.

He nearly fell into the seat next to Luna who looked over at him, unphased.

_“Good morning Sean. Lovely day, isn’t it?”_

“Luna! Stop thinking about the weather at a time like this!”

Jack shook the Ravenclaw’s shoulders.

“I was out with Hagrid last night feeding the Mooncalves, and he—”

_“Oh, I just love Mooncalves! They’re so elegant—”_

“Luna!”

Jack snapped.

“Hagrid told me about the first task! The first task is dragons!”

_“Dragons?”_

Luna turned to him, suddenly serious.

_“Are you sure?”_

Jack nodded.

“He took me to see them last night.”

Luna’s eyes widened. She leaned closer.

_“Really? You saw them? Up close?”_

Jack nodded and she sighed, clasping her hands over her heart.

_“They must have been magnificent!”_

“That’s one way to describe them.”

_“So?”_

Luna pressed.

“So?”

Jack didn’t understand.

_“So, how do you plan on telling Mark?”_

She hissed, nodding her head towards the crowded Hufflepuff table.

“Uh…um…”

Jack looked around.

“Gimme a sheet of parchment or something and a quill. Quick as you can, I have an idea.”

Luna scurried to dig through her patchwork bag, protruding a sheet of paper and a quill. She handed them over to Jack who hurriedly dipped the quill into the well and began scribbling across the paper.

He didn’t write very much and folded the sheet in half, conjuring an envelope.

_“What did you put?”_

“Only what was needed.”

Jack dipped the quill into the ink once more, scrawling

_M. Fischbach_

Across the front of the envelope in regal purple ink.

_“Now what?”_

Jack smirked.

“Now comes phase two.”

He stood from the Ravenclaw table, concealing the envelope as he walked towards the Hufflepuff table. He scanned the table, looking for someone. Then he spotted them. _Cedric._

He nonchalantly walked along the Hufflepuff table, nearing Cedric. When he was upon the Hufflepuff, he tripped. Or so they thought.

In that split second that Jack was on the floor, he stealthily slid the envelope into Cedric’s bag which was shoved under the table.

_“Are you alright? Geeze, didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”_

Cedric was pulling him up off the floor, helping Jack brush off his dust covered body.

“Oh, yeah. Just tripped, that’s all. Stupid floor and its cracks. Thanks.”

Cedric looked at him suspiciously for a moment before he smiled lightly.

_“Ok. Well, just be more careful then.”_

Jack flipped him a double thumbs-up.

“Will do.”

He made his way back to Luna as calmly as possible, slipping into the seat next to her.

_“Are you alright?”_

Jack smirked. Luna slapped him on the arm.

_“You faked it!”_

She whispered incredulously.

Jack smiled even more.

_“You clever you.”_

“Let’s just hope he gets it now. The task is a week from now. And he needs to know.”

_He needs to be ok._


	5. Belly of the beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the first task is finally upon everyone. Mark is...nervous to say the least. There's really only one thing giving him comfort, and that is a mysterious purple ink enthusiast. Dragons or not, Mark has a feeling that today is going to be life-changing, but will it really have anything to do with dragons?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody!!! I am SO sorry that this update has taken me so long!!! AGH!!! It was a beast (no pun intended) to get written, I went through at least three separate drafts, haha. Everything is sorted now, so I'm really hoping I don't let you guys down! So many people told me that they were looking forward to this chapter so much, so haha, no pressure. But seriously, I think this is a really important part of this story, and it's certainly climactic (at least I think it is ;b.) But anyway, I really hope this chapter was worth waiting for, so without further or do, let's get this show on the road. <3 PF

The morning of the twenty-fourth finally arrived, the day that Mark had been both anticipating and dreading. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt oddly separated from the entire world. There was this feeling that settled over his body that told him that today something _unforgettable_ was going to happen. But maybe that was the whole “I have to battle a dragon” feeling.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, groping for his glasses. He made up his bed with shaky hands and got dressed. Cedric never left his side from the moment they left the common room, but Mark didn’t hear half of what the other Hufflepuff said, for it felt like he was caught up in a deafening fog.

Mark sat mechanically at the Hufflepuff table, looking down. He felt a pull in his gut that told him to look up. When he did, he saw a pair of piercing blue eyes gazing at him intently. Jack had stood from his own table and looked to be making a move to walk towards Mark when Viktor came up and stopped him. Jack looked distressed, but Mark’s eyes were being pulled away from the Slytherin with choruses of people calling his name, slapping him on the back, wishing him luck.

Mark attempted to smile at them, forcing the muscles in his face to contract. He was pushing some scrambled eggs around on his plate, staring off into space. Just the idea of food made him queasy. A hand on his shoulder dragged him away from his thoughts.

He turned to see Professor Sprout behind him. She looked worried. _Properly_ worried. She was wringing her hands and avoiding eye contact.

_“Mark, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now…you have to get ready for the first task.”_

“O-okay.”

Mark searched for his voice for a moment, feeling detached from his body. Cedric began to rise from the seat next to Mark when Professor Sprout stopped him, her hand on his shoulder.

  _"Just Mister Fischbach, please. I know you're worried and all Mister Diggory, but…"_

 She looked away.

  _"Only the champions can come down to the grounds right now. I hope you understand."_

 Cedric nodded, giving Mark simple words of encouragement, telling the other Hufflepuff that he would "see him out there." Mark had nodded shakily and followed Professor Sprout down between the tables.

 People’s attention was drawn to Mark as he followed Professor Sprout out of the hall, several of them whooping and clapping. Mark was too distracted to search for Viktor.

Professor Sprout walked him down the steps, leading him out into the cold wind of the November morning. She turned to him.

_"Mark,”_

 Her voice shook.

 " _Students have died in this tournament before. And believe me, Mark, I don't want anything to happen to you."_

 She put her hands on his shoulders.

  _"Are you ready for this?"_

 Professor Sprout was like a second mother, and Mark felt oddly comforted by her presence. He covered one of her hands with his own.

 "Professor…when I entered this tournament…I didn't do it for me…I did it for Hufflepuff House…I want to make you proud Professor. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I think maybe random screaming will help me out.”

 Professor Sprout smiled, and she looked like she was about to cry. She gave his shoulders a small shake.

  _"Alright then."_

 They reached the area near the arena where a massive white tent had been pitched obscuring anything beyond it from view. Mark audibly gulped, feeling Professor Sprout’s hand come onto his shoulder once more.

_“This is where I must leave you. The other champions are inside. Wait for Mister Crouch to tell you what to do.”_

From within one of the pockets of her soil-covered overcoat she withdrew a small, spherical flower. It was purple in colour, covered in tiny, protruding flowers.

She took Mark's hand, curling his fingers around it. She patted his hand, smiling.

_"This is the flower from the garlic plant. Even though it possesses no magical qualities, this particular flower symbolizes courage and strength, which is all I wish for you, dear."_

Professor Sprout took a shaky breath, wiping tears from her eyes. Mark bent some and hugged her tightly. She patted his back, gesturing towards the tent. Her voice sounded to be on the verge of crying.

_"Good luck, my boy."_

Mark turned to enter the tent when she called him once more. He turned, Professor Sprout pulling one more thing from her pocket.

_"This is for you as well. I don't know who it’s from, but it was on my desk this morning."_

She handed Mark a small piece of parchment that had been folded into a card and he pocketed it. Professor Sprout looked as if she wanted to say more, but she ushered him into the tent and he could hear her weeping. His heart began to ache, his stomach twisting into knots.

He looked around the tent.

Fleur was sitting in one of the corners, looking far less confident and composed than she normally did. Her hands appeared to be shaking, and she looked pale.

Viktor had taken up his usual brooding stance, looking cockily at Mark. He took another breath, stepping further into the tent, seeing a uniform hung in a little inlet.

Mark took off his school clothes, pulling the yellow and black striped shirt over his head. Taking a moment for himself, Mark sat down on the cot in this little room of the tent. He had taken Professor Sprout's gift from his school trousers and placed it in the pocket of his tournament ones.

He had also removed the little notecard. He took a breath flipping it open. There was a single line written across the card in that same mysterious purple ink.

_le grá agus ádh_

Mark didn't recognize the language. He saw taped to the top flap of the card with Spell-o-tape was a four-leaf clover. Mark smiled, carefully removing it from the card and tucked it into his pocket. This mysterious purple ink enthusiast was really saving his ass. Whoever they were, they obviously cared about him. Mark just wasn’t sure who that was.

He reappeared into the main section of the tent and heard Crouch’s voice.

* * *

 

_“Ah, Mister Fischbach. Wonderful, wonderful. Gather ‘round, gather ‘round, please.”_

Crouch began adjusting the champions into a semi-circle around him. He produced a small silken pouch, shaking it slightly.

_“Now what I have here represents three very real dragons. Your first task is to collect the golden egg that each of these dragons is guarding. You will each select a replica dragon from the bag which will represent your dragon in the task.”_

Crouch extended the bag to Fleur.

_“Ladies first.”_

The Beauxbaton put her quivering hand into the bag, and removed a tiny green dragon from the violet bag—the Welsh Green. It had a number two tied around its neck. She breathed, regaining some of her composure.

Next up was Krum, who withdrew a scarlet dragon—the Chinese Fireball, which had a number one hanging around its neck.

Mark felt sick again, and this time he thought he might actually vomit. He pressed his fist against his mouth, taking deep breaths through his nose. When he had quelled the feeling, he turned, placing his slightly unsteady hand into the bag.

He pulled out his closed fist, opening his palm to reveal a tiny pitch-black dragon sitting on his hand with a number three laced around its neck.

_“The Hebridean Black.”_

Crouch said.

_“Alright, Mister Krum, looks like you're up first. Miss Delacour, you will follow. And Mister Fischbach, you will conclude the task.”_

Crouch turned to Krum.

_“At the sound of the cannon, you may proceed into the arena.”_

Mark had nodded, although he had no idea what he was doing. There was what sounded like a hundred thousand footsteps outside the tent, people laughing and chatting excitedly.

 The sound of the cannon blasted from nearby, shaking the entire tent violently. Krum strided confidently out the front of the tent and entered the arena. There were cheers from the crowd, the fangirls the loudest of them all. 

 Mark had ventured to his back corner of the tent and sat back down on the cot. He hung his head between his knees, taking measured breaths. He felt so nervous.

 Mark was fading in and out of Ludo Bagman's commentary, who was shrieking excitedly about Krum's performance, accompanied by screams from the crowd and the Chinese Fireball's monstrous roaring.

  _"That's some nerve he's showing--and--yes, he's got the egg!"_

 Crouch was delegating Fleur to the front of the tent as Krum reappeared, virtually unscathed. He was breathing heavily, but that was about it. There was a tirade of feminine cheering in a foreign tongue coming from outside the tent as Fleur disappeared.

 Mark reached into his pocket and removed the clover that was there, clutching it to his chest. The fact that some stranger was helping him through this was the only thing he had at the moment. Bagman was still going strong, screaming about Fleur's performance.

  _"Oh…nearly! Careful now…good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"_

 It was a series of minutes later before the crowd had erupted into applause and Bagman was cheering that she had gotten the egg. Fleur appeared in the doorway of the tent, looking faint.

 That was when Crouch was upon him, telling him it was time.

  _Time to what? Time to live or time to die?_

* * *

A great roar swelled through the crowd as Mark appeared from within a rocky doorway. He stood there, squinting, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light that the arena offered. He looked around at the grandstands, seeing his fellow Hogwarts students cheering manically. They were waving banners and shrieking, some had painted their faces yellow and black, and some held up signs emblazoned with his name. They were all stamping their feet and clapping.

  _"Let's go Mar-k, let's go! Let's go Mar-k, let's go! This Hufflepuff's sure got the stuff!"_

 Mark smiled momentarily, stepping out from the doorway into the arena. He looked off afar, gulping. He couldn't move.

 On the other side of the arena was the dragon. And it _was huge_. She arched her spiked back at him, hissing and squawking as she covered over a makeshift nest between her taloned feet. She swung her arrow-tipped tail back and forth in some sort of display of aggression, her enormous purple eyes narrowed.

 Mark took a step forward, unsure of what to do. His eyes were fixed on the creature, as if he was just suddenly realizing that it was in fact a _dragon_.

 The Hebridean hissed at him again, shifting ever so slightly that the object between her legs caught a glint of light. And there it was. _The Golden Egg._

 Mark licked his lips. _Ok. How hard could this be?_

 He took another step forward, and that was when she roared. It was an ear-splitting shriek. Mark winced, stepping back slightly. He was so deeply immersed in this _game_ that he couldn't hear the crowd or Bagman’s commentary.

 The dragon arched her back at him whilst flapping her skeletal wings, stepping around her nest. Mark stood his ground, watching her crouch, flaring her nostrils at him, whipping her tail back and forth.

 Mark stomped his foot, hunkering down. He yelled back at her.

 "Come at me!"

 The dragon did not like that. She lunged off of her nest across a massive gap to the next part of land, hurdling towards Mark.

  _Shit. This was a mistake._

 He tried to show no fear. _That's what you were supposed to do, right? Like with dogs? Fuck, this isn't a dog, though! It's a goddamn dragon!_

 Mark began to back away, trying not to lodge himself in a corner of the arena and become a late-morning snack for the dragon. She encroached on him, hissing, smoke billowing from her nostrils. Her tail came whipping over his head, and he tried to duck, slipping on the rocks. He felt pain in his side, felt something hot gushing down his cheek.

_“YOUR WAND, MARK! YOUR WAND!”_

Mark looked up, scampering to get to his feet. He looked around for the sound, his eyes darting back and forth frantically.

_"USE YOUR WAND!"_

Mark's eyes followed the sound of the voice.

The owner of the voice was standing in one of the upper tiers of the grandstand, boxed in between Granger and Lovegood. But it wasn’t Cedric. It wasn’t Cedric at all.

_It was Jack._

Mark stood, dumbstruck, eyes glued to Jack.

There was a deafening roar from behind him, followed by the sound of shifting rubble.

Mark snapped out of it, shaking his head, he spun around, pulling his Ashwood wand from the holster on the side of his right leg. He quickly aimed at the dragon, flourishing his wrist.

“Brachiabindo!”

Chains spurted from the tip of Mark’s wand and began to bind the dragon, wrapping around its legs. It roared ferociously. It attempted to take a step forward but faltered with the bindings around its legs.

Mark smirked. He thought that this had been an easy victory. However, the dragon was slightly cleverer than Mark was, and whipped its massive arrow-tipped tail forward, crashing it between the chains on its front legs.

The smile on the Hufflepuff’s face faded and he leapt to take cover when the dragon’s saliva-dripping jaws closed in on him.

_“MARK!!”_

Mark heard the sound of Jack’s voice, and somehow found it oddly comforting. He quelled his throbbing heartbeat. He stood cautiously from behind a rock, hands gripping the top of it. He took two steps towards the dragon, pointing his wand.

“Fulgari!”

The Hebridean Black was instantly chained in what looked like a painful manner, and it let out a high-pitched noise. It crashed onto the ground of the arena, snarling at Mark as it attempted to free itself from the charmed bindings.

Mark took that opportunity to run in the direction of where the dragon had been when he first entered the arena.

 The blood was pumping so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything; not the commentary, not the crowd, nothing. He was running closer and closer to the golden bauble when suddenly, he stopped.

He stood, arms outstretched, teetering on the edge of a gaping chasm.

“Fucking hell…”

He whispered, managing somehow to back away from the edge. He glanced over his shoulder, the dragon still struggling with its bindings. Mark thought for a moment, trying to be quick on his feet here. He looked around. He tried to think of something.

He approached the edge of the gap again, raising both his hand and his wand. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He dug deep, deeper than he ever had before and willed his magic to come to his aid.

“Tractus forma.”

And then, he heard a roar of cheering. Mark opened his eyes, seeing before him a tangle of the surrounding supplies; rock, banners, and moss, coming together to form a makeshift bridge.

Mark wanted to kiss the ground and thank the Gods, but he heard the dragon behind him, it sounded like she had loosened his bindings, and he began to hurry across his haphazard bridge like his life depended on it, which in this case, it did.

The dragon was behind him, he could hear her massive footfalls. He ran faster, pumping his arms.

_Christ, how big was this gap?_

Mark saw the egg, it was right within reach. He felt something behind him, something snatch him and he jerked backwards.

The dragon had ahold of his shirt, and she had no intention of letting go. The crowd gasped, a few people screamed.

Mark struggled, baring his teeth. He squirmed to try and get out of his shirt.

“Stupefy!”

He shouted, pointing his wand right in the dragon’s face. A flash of red shot from his wand, the dragon snorting when it hit her. She dropped Mark with a rip of his shirt, rubbing at her muzzle with a foot.

Mark took the opportunity to dash in the opposite direction, diving for the egg, reaching as far as he could with his fingers. And then…

_“That’s it folks! Mister Fischbach has retrieved the Golden Egg!”_

There was a roar of applause from the crowd, people stamping their feet and screaming, waving Hufflepuff and Hogwarts banners alike.

Mark saw handlers enter the arena from hidden alcoves, stunning the dragon, working on getting her up and out of the arena.

Mark stood shakily for a moment before he made his way back into the champions’ tent. He all but fell over, taking a needed breath. Had he really just done that?

_Holy shit._

He collapsed onto the floor, the egg between his knees, head in his hands. He took another much-needed breath.

_Breathe. Just breathe. It’s all over now._

He took another breath in through his nose, pulling the slightly smashed shamrock from his pocket, smiling at it. From the other pocket, he removed the mysterious card. He turned it over once in his hands, looking more closely at the writing on it.

That was when he heard a voice to his left. Startled, the notecard fell from his fingers as he scrambled to stand.

_"Mark?"_

He looked up. Their eyes had flashed to the little notecard on the floor.

“Jack?”

* * *

Jack stood staring at the Hufflepuff, particularly at the gash along his cheek. Mark’s eyes widened.

“How did you get in here? You’re not supposed to be here!”

Jack approached him slowly.

_“I know…I just…”_

Mark looked down sullenly at the egg on the floor.

“I didn’t even think you’d show up to be honest.”

_“Mark…look…”_

Jack scratched the back of his head, looking off to the side.

Mark moved closer as he saw something for a fraction of a second. His eyes were narrowed slightly as they focused in on something.

"What is that?"

He stepped closer to the Slytherin.

_"What is what?"_

On the inside of Jack's palm was blotches of slightly faded purple ink.

  _Ink. Purple ink._

 Mark's brows furrowed. The note. _The note._ The note was written in purple ink. As well as that notecard…Jack had looked at it, looked flustered. _Why would he be flustered? Unless he knew…_ How would Jack know in the first place about the task? The dragons?

 Mark's eyes flickered to Jack, who was seeming preoccupied by intently watching the replica dragon flit around his shoulders.

 Wait. The dragons…Jack loved creatures…always carried a battered old copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ with him wherever he went…he spent so much time working with Hagrid to gain experience…

 Mark stopped.

  _Hagrid_ had always wanted a _dragon._

 Something seemed to click inside Mark's head.

 “It was you, wasn't it?"

 Mark's voice cracked.

Jack swallowed.

"Why help me? Don't you hate me?"

Jack looked away.

_"I had my reasons…"_

"Like what?"

Mark asked, his voice swelling with the onslaught of tears.  

_"Like…"_

Jack grappled, still not making eye contact. Mark looked dejected, knowing that the Slytherin wasn’t going to respond.

“Please…just tell me…”

Mark pleaded, holding his arms out. Jack turned, disgruntled and grabbed onto the front of Mark's torn shirt crashing their lips together. Mark gasped, surprised. Jack had pulled back, his forehead resting against Mark's, his chest heaving.

_"Stupid. You're so stupid…"_

He pressed his lips back against Mark's, open-mouthed. It was unlike any kiss they had ever had before. It was warm, soft, but with enough want, and…there was something else in it too…

Jack broke the kiss again, this time for air. He was still holding onto Mark's shirt.

_"Mark…I have to tell you something…I-I lo-"_

That was when a sudden camera flash startled the both of them.

A voice trilled from out of sight.

_“Oh, young love! Is this your special mystery man, Mister Fischbach?”_

Rita Skeeter appeared, trailed by her smugly-grinning camera man.

Jack instantly separated from Mark, his face beet-red.

Then there was another voice.

_“You have no business here! This tent is for champions…and friends…”_

Viktor came into sight, his eyes scanning Mark and Jack before settling menacingly on Skeeter.

  _"No matter,"_

Skeeter said, shrugging, her Quick-Quotes Quill lazily flicking across Viktor's jawline.

_"Now, you dear, Jack,"_

She popped her lips, drawing out the syllables in his name.

_"Where have you been hiding all this time? Are you Mister Fischbach's secret lover?"_

Jack's mouth was agape. He hadn't realized that he had been holding onto Mark's wrist and quickly let it go, his eyes pleading with Mark. He moved to say something before a rude noise escaped him and he darted out the back of the tent, the flap blowing in the breeze.

Rita pressed Mark to respond, but he felt like he was in a fog. He walked almost zombielike to the rear end of the tent and pulled the flap back, watching Jack rush up the hill, tripping. He grabbed onto Hermione’s arm, whirling her around before pulling her off away from the tent and the arena with Luna in tow.

Mark sighed, running his fingers across his lips. He slowly walked back to where the egg and notecard lay discarded. He gathered them into his arms, hearing a small squeak. He looked down, holding out two fingers to the tiny Hebridean, who he poised on his shoulder.

Madame Pomfrey had appeared, pushing him down to sit on one of the cots, examining his cheek. Mark couldn’t hear a word of what she was saying to him.

_Jack had…kissed him._

_No._

_Jack had done more than that…he had…saved him…_

* * *

 

Mark had received a near perfect score with an eight from both Madame Maxime and Bagman, two nines from both Crouch and Dumbledore, and then a six from Karkaroff.

Cedric was helping him back to the castle after the tournament rambling on and on about it.

_“That was fantastic, Mark! Absolutely fantastic! You did bloody brilliantly!”_

His Hufflepuff counterpart went on and on about how Krum nailed his dragon right in the eye with some sort of boxing spell and how Fleur put hers in some sort of trance.

_“But you were by far the best, mate!”_

Cedric looked at Mark, somewhat dejected.

_“Are you even listening?”_

Mark snapped back to reality.

“Oh…sorry…sorry…”

Cedric stopped him, grabbing onto his shoulder.

_“What’s wrong? You’ve been weird ever since we left the arena.”_

“Jack…”

Mark sighed.

_“What about him?”_

“He…he sent the note, Ced.”

The other Hufflepuff’s eyes widened incredulously.

_“How do you know?”_

“Well, he didn’t deny it…”

_“Wait. What?”_

“He came to the tent after my task.”

Cedric looked at him with even more disbelief.

“And…he kissed me.”

_“Are you serious? You’re ribbing me, right?”_

Cedric laughed. Mark narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“I’m being completely serious, Ced.”

Cedric stifled his chortling, swallowing it down, looking apologetically at Mark.

"He was just about to tell me something when Rita Skeeter burst in on us."

Cedric rolled his eyes.

_"That woman is so vile."_

Mark shrugged.

"I don't know…I just wonder why he did it…he didn’t tell me just said he 'had his reasons'…"

Cedric was walking him down the kitchen corridor, tapping the _Helga Hufflepuff_ tune into the barrels, steering a clearly preoccupied Mark down the earthy passageway. He squeezed Mark's shoulders slightly.

_"Well, I think I have something here that might take your mind off the subject."_

Mark scoffed.

"Ced, if it's another tea party and pillow fight followed by an intense cuddling session, I think I'm gonna have to pass."

That was when they stepped into the set and the strong, unmistakable smell of Butterbeer hit his nose and there was a round of roaring applause. Cedric and Zacharias were hoisting him onto their shoulders whilst everyone cheered. They stomped their feet, guys cheering loudly, girls squealing at just the sight of him. They all raised either a glass of Butterbeer, their wand, or their hand into the air, cheering.

Mark held the egg in his lap, clearing his throat. He took a moment to pause, methodically waving a hand, working through the words. He then hopped down, taking a nearby banner that had been set down and draped it around his shoulders in a very cape-like manner. He returned to Cedric and Zach, gesturing for them to lift him up again. He smacked Cedric in the face with the thick cloth as he climbed up, smirking slightly as he straightened up on their shoulders.

"My fellow Hufflepuffs, today was a victory for our noble house!"

There was a resounding cheer of hoo-rahs.

"That dragon was one tough piece of work, and she certainly thought she got the better of me,"

He gestured to his sutured cheek and ripped up shirt, earning a few laughs.

"She's back off to Romania tomorrow, but I've got one last thing I'd like to say to her…"

He thrust the egg into the air, throwing his head back while he hollered at the top of his lungs,

"Bitch, I'm fabulous!"

The crowd at his feet roared with laughter and applause, cheering and clapping. Cedric and Zach let him down, where he earned several slaps on the back and kisses on the cheek.

He meandered through the crowd, winding through a sea of yellow and black, handshakes and smiling faces to where Cedric was standing over by a tapped barrel. He handed Mark a pint of the frothy golden liquid. Mark took a healthy swig, sputtering slightly.

It tasted…different. He looked to Cedric, who stealthy protruded a flask that was filled with mostly likely Fire Whiskey, the curly-haired boy smirking.

_"We're not all boring here."_

Mark laughed and knocked glasses with Cedric's flask.

This had been one hell of a day. And it had certainly been _unforgettable._

* * *

 

Professor McGonagall’s irritated voice broke through the transfiguration classroom as several of its occupants failed to pay attention.

_“Now that some of you have kindly decided to act your age, I have something to tell you.”_

Mark looked up from his book, where he had already started on his cross-species switching homework.

Professor McGonagall clasped her hands in front of her, stepping down from the little stage at the front of the schoolroom.

_“The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish—”_

She was cut off by a stark shrill from the back of the classroom, where a Ravenclaw girl was clamping her hand over her mouth in an attempt to contain her excitement. McGonagall looked at her, unamused.

_“Dress robes will be worn,”_

She continued.

_“and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then, the Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to—er—”_

She waved her hands, looking for the right set of words.

_“Let our hair down.”_

The professor visibly cringed at her choice of words, more fits of giggling breaking out. But McGonagall reprimanded them all harshly, waving her pointer finger at them menacingly.

_“But that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.”_

It seemed that all the Gryffndors in the room stilled, setting down their quills, sitting up, their eyes all gluing to the professor. In that moment, Mark thanked his lucky stars that he had Sprout as his head of house because McGonagall was seriously scary sometimes. The look she was giving each and every one of the students filled his heart with fear.

The bell rang, cutting off McGonagall, if she had more to say. Mark stood from his desk, he and Cedric collecting their books, stuffing them into their bags.

_“Mister Fischbach.”_

Professor McGonagall’s voice had lost some its coolness.

“Yes, ma’am?”

He looked up at her.

_“I thought you should know, being a champion and all, you and your partner are expected to open the ball together, along with the other champions.”_

“Of course…”

Mark started, mulling through the words like they had left an unsavoury taste in his mouth. Given the choice between asking someone to this ball and battling the Hebridean Black, he’d rather have another go with the dragon.

“I just have to find someone now…”

He muttered slightly.

_“Well, I’m sure you can find someone.”_

Professor McGonagall said, regaining some of her coolness. She handed him a folded copy of the _Daily Prophet._

Mark looked at the headline in horror. On the page before him, with the text wrapped around the animated photograph in the shape of a heart was he and Jack embracing and breaking apart with the scathing headline

_Hogwarts champion’s secret love interest exposed!_

_Upon completing his ravenous battle with a Hebridean Black, Mister Fischbach received some rather saucy consolation. Is this Mark’s mystery man? No word yet, but I can tell you that this boy is none other than the little English morsel that Viktor Krum’s had his eye on! Talk about a scandal! We will have to see how all of this unfolds._

Mark tossed the newspaper onto the desk in front of him like it might set his hand on fire. He looked up, Professor McGonagall smirking at him.

_“Like I said, I’m sure you’ll find somebody.”_


	6. If I told you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack feels like a bug under a microscope, with everyone's prying eyes upon him, especially after Viktor asks him to the Yule Ball. Viktor? The ball? It may just be too much for his tiny Irish heart. But the crushing blow come when Mark asks him as well. That's when all hell breaks loose. And will Jack be able to finally tell Mark how he feels, or is this it; the end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!!!!! I am SO, SO, SO, SO, SO, SO, SO, SO SORRY for the delay on this chapter!!!!!!!!!!!! I let a lot of you know that I was really busy with Uni and exams, but it's finally over!! I really hope that this chapter was worth the wait and that it lives up to all your guys' expectations! :) Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who has followed this story from day one, and from the very first fic. Thank you too to all of the new followers of this fic! I appreciate each and every one of your guys' support! Your comments keep me going! Can't wait to see your guys' reactions to this one! So, without further or do, I give you...Chapter 6. <3 PF

Jack thought that his tiny Irish heart couldn’t take much more of this tournament. After seeing Mark almost get devoured by a dragon, Jack felt like his heart was constantly pounding. 

After Professor McGonagall had set the news of the Yule Ball on his transfiguration class, the whole school was buzzing. Girls were giggling whenever they were near boys, they were swapping notes on what they were going to wear to the ball, or who they were crushing on, and first years were crying about all of it because they couldn’t attend unless they were asked, which was highly unlikely. 

Jack honestly couldn’t care less. He had no desire to attend the bloody ball. He was sitting at the Slytherin table, spooning in cereal whilst reading the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet._

He threw his spoon into his cereal, disgusted as he saw Rita Skeeter’s latest article featuring he and Mark breaking apart like a couple of scared cats. 

Jack sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

It seemed like everything was spiraling out of control lately. He felt like he was drowning in all of his emotions. There was just too much to _feel_. 

Ever since he had _kissed_ Mark after the first task, something felt… _different._ Things between he and Mark had been touch and go for a while, the two of them walking around each other on eggshells. But now…well, it didn’t feel like he had to do that anymore. 

Jack wondered how much worse things could get. With all of these mixed-up feelings and his face in the papers all the time now, it was hard to have anytime to yourself. 

There was a heavy set of footfalls to his left and he set down the slightly crumpled newspaper when he heard his name. 

_ “Vello, Jack.” _

He turned slightly, looking up to see Viktor standing next to the Slytherin table. However, Jack _didn’t_ expect the Durmstrang to be in _full uniform_. 

Viktor looked…nervous, and cleared his throat as he hefted a section of his cape over his shoulder. 

_ “I suppose you are vondering vhat I am vooing here, so…” _

Other members of the hall had turned their attention to the situation unfolding in front of them. Viktor slowly got down on one of his knees, as if he was proposing, clearing his throat again. He reached for Jack’s hands, who was oblivious to what was going on. 

_ “Jack…I vanted to vask…you…vill you…go to va ball…vith me?” _

Jack leaned forward slightly. 

“Uh…come again?”

Viktor chuckled. 

_ “Villy English boy. Vill you attend the ball vith me?” _

Several of the girls in the room swooned, others had to clamp their hands over their mouths to keep from screaming out with the agony that Viktor had not asked them. 

Since the news of the Yule Ball had been set on the school, girls from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons alike had been following the Durmstrang just about everywhere he went like how goslings follow their mother. Really, Jack thought it was pathetic. 

In this moment, though, he was a bit taken aback. He sat there, thunderstruck, staring into Viktor’s dark eyes. 

Those dark brown eyes…they reminded him of… _someone else._

“Uh…Viktor…this…this is all so sudden…”

The Durmstrang nodded. 

“The ball…”

Jack’s mouth hung open, as if unhinged. 

“Uh…um…can…can I…”

He felt like every eye in the place was boring into his skull. 

“Can I think about it?”

Viktor took a sharp intake of breath. He seemed disappointed. 

_ “Of vourse. Vake as much vime as you veed.” _

“Would you excuse me?”

Jack said, holding up a finger. He collected his bag from the floor beside the bench and began to weave his way out of the hall. 

He felt sick to his stomach, swallowing hard. He was getting the evil eye from several Ravenclaw girls as he made his way out. 

That had him quickening his pace, as well as the hushed whispers his classmates tried to keep him from hearing. 

He leaned his back against the hard wall just outside the hall, taking a deep breath. He covered his face with his hands. 

_ The ball? Viktor? What?  _

This…this was all too much…he needed more time. He needed to decide…

He needed to decide who he really wanted. 

And what did he _really_ want?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

A few days had gone by since Viktor’s proposal. _Proposal?_ Jack shook his head rather violently before twisting his fingers into his hair. 

He felt absolutely _overwhelmed_. Every day people were whispering behind his back and girls were shooting him the side-eye. He didn’t understand why people were so _vehement_ about a goddamn _ball._

He had his potions book shoved underneath his arm and was walking across the courtyard when someone knocked into him, and he dropped the stack of books he was carrying. 

Jack snarled, thinking it could have been Malfoy, but he heard a rushed apology from behind. He sighed, stooping onto the snow-dusted cobblestones to retrieve the books. He reached a pale hand out when, suddenly, another hand appeared in his line of sight. 

_ “Here.” _

He looked up, his icy blue eyes meeting the rich darks of Mark’s. 

“Uh…uh thanks.”

Jack began gathering the rest of his books into his arms, standing, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Mark had his hands in the pockets of his trousers, shoulders slumped forward in an equally uncomfortable pose. 

“Well, thanks again.”

Jack started, raising the books some, as if indicating what had just happened. He went to continue on his way when he felt Mark grab onto his arm.

_ “Wait. Please.” _

Jack turned back around. There was a look of sincerity across Mark’s face. 

_ “Jack, I…I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you did.” _

Jack shifted the books around in his arms. 

“Don’t mention it.”

_ “I really think I should.” _

Jack moved from foot to foot. 

_ “Jack…I…gosh…um…” _

Mark ran a hand through his hair at the back of his head. He licked his upper lip.

_ “Do…do you like…uh…wanna…” _

Jack leaned forward a little. 

_ “Doyouwannagototheball…with me?” _

“Uh…sorry…I didn’t get that.”

Mark took a deep breath. 

_ “Do you want to go to the ball with me?” _

Jack gaped. _Was this happening? This was what he wanted…right?_ But, despite what he had initially thought, something began to churn inside of him. A fire of hate had been lit. 

“You’re not serious, are you?”

Mark scratched the back of his neck. 

_ “Well, I uh…yeah. I mean…I know Viktor kinda asked you already…but…” _

“After everything that’s happened, you think I’d want to _go_ with _you?”_

Jack hadn’t meant to sound so vindictive. Mark visibly shrank back. 

_ “Oh…well…I just figured…after the first task and all…” _

“You figured _what_ , exactly? That I just _forgave_ you for everything?”

Jack laughed maliciously. 

_ “Jack…you know how I feel about you…I never meant…” _

The Hufflepuff sighed heavily, covering his face with his hands. 

Jack looked around at the little crowd that had gathered. Some people were like bloody vultures. Whenever they saw a champion, they came running like their arse was on fire. But considering that it was _Mark_ and _he_ , that made the situation all the more interesting. 

Jack felt a sudden pang in his chest at the inflection in Mark’s voice. 

_ “I…I was angry…I never…I never meant to…to say those things...” _

“Well, you did.”

Jack said crossly. 

_ “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have to know that. I…I thought you were using me.” _

Jack swallowed. 

“I-”

_ “I loved you since the very first day.” _

Mark came closer, taking the Slytherin’s books, setting them on the frozen ground. 

“Mark…don’t…”

Jack’s voice cracked. 

_ “You have no idea the hell I went through. I regretted what I said every single day. Jack…I…regretted losing you every day.” _

Jack swallowed again. Mark went to place his hand on Jack’s cheek, but it was roughly slapped away. Months of unshed tears pricked at the corners of the Slytherin’s eyes. 

“And, and what?! You think that _this_ makes up for all of that?! Do you?! God! You have _no idea_ what you did to me. _No idea!_ You hurt me in a way I _never_ thought that you would hurt me.”

_ “I-I’m sorry.” _

“Too little too late.”

_ “Don’t be like that!” _

Mark grabbed onto his cloak. Jack grabbed onto the Hufflepuff’s shoulders forcefully. He had twin streams of tears cutting through the snowflakes that had adhered to his cheeks and eyelashes. 

“You called me a _mudblood_. And that was the _worst_ thing you could ever do to me.”

_ “Jack, please.” _

“No. No. I’m done. I don’t want to do this again.”

He collected his books and began to make his way through the crowd when Mark cried out. 

_ “Sean! Please! I’m begging you. What do you want? You want me to get down on my knees and beg? Ok, I’ll do it. I’ll get on my knees and beg your forgiveness.” _

Jack scoffed lightly in the back of his throat turning. 

"Get up. You look like a fool."

_ “You think battling a dragon is hard, living without you is harder. Jack, please.” _

Mark was still on his knees, on the ground. Jack felt something in his gut clench. He knew Mark was doing his best to be sincere, but…this made up for _nothing. Nothing at all._

Nothing had changed. All Mark had done was say he was _sorry. Sorry_ didn't take back the seething word, the word that was like a slap across the face. It didn't replace the hurt and the anger he felt for his abused trust that he had confided so surely in Mark. It made absolutely no difference in hindsight, because, angry or not, Mark had still _said it._

Everything their relationship had built itself up to at this point crumbed in that moment. 

"Get up!"

He barked. 

Jack felt a sickness and a stillness come over him and he tightened his cloak around his shoulder with his one hand. 

_ "Jack, please!" _

Mark's voice broke, straining with the onslaught of emotions he was battling with. But Jack was facing his own daemons right now. 

"No…"

He started, his voice quiet, strained. 

_ "Jack," _

Mark slowly rose, creeping towards Jack. 

Mark slowly took a handful of Jack’s cloak into his hand, pulling the Slytherin closer. 

_ "Please. Just give me one more chance. I know we can fix things." _

"No,"

Jack struggled to get out once more. 

Mark's brows turned in, harder streams of tears sloshing down his cheeks. 

_ "Jack," _

Mark grappled, trying to hold onto the last spider's thread he had with Jack. 

"No. Enough."

He turned to leave, but the Hufflepuff didn't let go of his cloak. 

"Let go of my cloak!"

Jack snarled through his teeth. He swallowed. 

_ "Jack, please!" _

"NO, ENOUGH!"

His voice was louder than he had intended for it to be, and it echoed ferorouciously off the walls of the courtyard. 

"We cannot just _fix_ things! You think it's as _easy_ as _that?!_ What you did, what you _said_ , was _unforgiveable! Unforgiveable_ , Mark! You cannot just come crawling back to me with your heart on your sleeve and an apology on your lips and expect me to get swept off my feet! I _despise_ you for what you said! You have _no idea, no clue,_ what that did to me! If you even _cared_ you'd try to find out, but no. No! You think _apologizing_ makes it all better!"

Jack got close to the Hufflepuff's face. 

"And guess what; _it doesn't."_

Mark's eyes were wide as he stared at Jack. 

_ "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It was stupid, and I never, never meant it!" _

Jack's books tumbled to the cobbles as his hands flew to his temples, hands balling into fists. 

"Just shut up… _shut up!"_

His fist flew in Mark's direction, but the Hufflepuff caught the blow, holding Jack's hand at bay. 

He shuddered visibly with the effort of a breath. 

_ "You want to hit me? Fine. Hit me. If it will make you feel better. Just HIT ME!" _

Jack drew his fist back, slamming it forward, making contact with the side of Mark's jaw. The Hufflepuff groaned, his neck whipping to the side, a trickle of crimson visible. 

The Slytherin shoved him, Mark stumbling back as Jack advanced. The other boy's eyes blazed, fury and uncoupled pain coursing though him.

Mark fell to the cobblestones, scraping open his hands. He hissed in response. Jack was down on top on him, drawing his fist back once more, but he stopped. His whole arm was shaking, and he looked up, seeing Luna standing in the crowd, her hands over her mouth. 

Jack swallowed, bringing his hand in close to his chest. He stood up, backing away from Mark. He looked around at all of the stunned faces in the crowd, his eyes flickering from Luna to Hermione to Cedric. 

He gulped, continuing to back away. 

Mark was pushing himself up, shoving assistance aside. 

Jack looked terrified. And that was when he ran. He had forgotten all about his books, running away from the courtyard, from the crowd, from Mark. 

And most of all, _he ran from himself._

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Jack had fled to the forest - _his safe space_. But everywhere he turned, the forest seemed to be mocking him. He gasped and sputtered, falling against one of the trees, bracing his hand against it. He took heaving breaths, trying to breathe normally. It felt like he was _drowning._

Everything flashed before his eyes, all the smells, all the sounds, all the sights, the feelings, they _haunted him_. 

Every foot in front of the other felt twisted and misplaced. He felt like he was falling, growing dizzier and dizzier. 

He huffed and puffed, reaching the clearing at long last. _But it was empty_. His thestral was nowhere to be found. He called and called for her until he was doubled over, gasping for breath. 

He practically had to crawl his way over to the semi-rotted log he always perched upon. He leaned back against it, dropping his head back, screaming out into the dark abyss overhead. 

He cried and cried until his lungs ached and felt raw. He turned onto his side, retching. His face was covered in tear tracks mixed with dribble and snot and he was glad he was all the way out here in the forest. _Alone_. _Always alone._

This is what he had feared the most. Getting close to someone… _then losing them_. 

Jack felt a whole new round of tears spill down his face, a sob clawing its way up his throat. He let the pathetic sound burst forth from him. His face was contorted with the agony he felt inside. 

He wanted to know _why. Why_ was it always _him_? _Why was everything always fucked up for him? Why did he always lose everything?_

He felt like dying. He wanted to die. Maybe everything would be better then. 

But no such luck came to him. No sweet release of death. 

Hagrid had found him out on his rounds and had carried Jack back to his hut, warming him up, preparing tea. However, Jack was _silent._ He didn't utter a word, didn't offer an explanation. 

He simply thanked Hagrid for the tea, and made his way back to the castle. 

And as he walked along the path in the moonlight, he was once again _alone._

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Jack had stayed holed up in his room for days, hardly ever leaving the dormitory. Sebastian and Spencer were often the ones to bring him meals, and offered his professors excuses as to his absences from class. Hermione had tried to visit him once, but had found no such luck, leaving his stack of forgotten books along with a note outside the dormitory. 

The Slytherin spent most days in bed, hidden under the thick, silver duvet. He never wanted to come out. He wanted to hide from the world. _To disappear._

It was only perhaps after a week that he emerged from the dungeons. The sunlight stung his skin and he held his hand up to block the blinding light. People seemingly gaped at him everywhere he went, but he kept his head down. 

His scarf was knotted around his neck, messenger bag slung over his shoulder as he made his way out onto the grounds. He walked past hoards of people; past their gossiping and their hushed voices, past their hands in front of their mouths, hiding their conversations, even past Malfoy and his curdled upper lip. 

Past the three boulders he went, trekking down the path on the way to Hagrid's hut. The old gamekeeper was out and about, making preparations for the upcoming ball. He stopped, smiling and waving when he saw Jack. 

Jack hesitantly waved back, continuing on the path up towards the Mooncalf pens. He opened the gate, making his way up the hill, the snowy field absent of the cute creatures, who were most likely hiding out in their shelters. 

Jack reached the top of the hill, turning to look over his shoulder at the panoramic view of the castle. He could barely make out the figures of students hurdling snowballs at each other and constructing snowmen the old-fashioned way. But he didn't smile at the thought. 

He turned away, heading down the hill and disappearing from sight. 

He walked for a while until he reached the other side of the pen, exiting the pasture through the gate. It quietly clicked shut. The gravel from the bank crushed under his boots, intermingling with the snow.

Jack walked even further, continuing along the lakeshore, the sunlight appearing though the overcast sky. He watched his feet walk themselves along, one in front of the other, eyes trained on the laces swaying from side to side. 

He found a quiet spot where he wouldn't be disturbed far along down the bank, under what must be a willow tree when the warmer weather came along. 

He sat down underneath it, his back against the trunk, settling himself. That was when he removed a roll of parchment from his bag, along with a quill, and balanced the parchment on a book pressing into his knees as he began to write. 

_ Dear Mark,  _

_~~ I know things have been difficult lately.  ~~ _ _ I need you to understand me, and where I am coming from. I know it's hard for you to imagine, seeing as you've never had to worry about the status of your blood, or have never second-guessed your magic…but what if I told you about the little nothing town I came from. The three-room flat I was raised in. The man that I got my name from, but never saw. What if I told you that sometimes I question who I am, and if I really am where I'm supposed to be? I never even imagined that someone like you would even talk to me. And I know you want to try and fix me, fix this thing that we used to have, but there's just no fixing me. I know, cause everybody's tried. I have scars on my body to prove that fact, and I'm not afraid to say that I still mind. I grew up with no money, no friends, and no dad. All I had was a mum and a job to do. But I was unclean and unsightly, only a thing useful to be ordered about and beaten. My mum never laid a hand on me, she always thought I was special. But I lost her, a long time ago. And I'm sorry, but I've never gotten over that fact. She was my only friend in the world and she left me. I blame myself. And that's why this is so hard for me, because I was afraid of losing you. And now I have. And I knew that this was all going to come out eventually, so I might as well just tell you now. I've done a lot of stupid things in my life; the stupidest one being screwing this thing that we had up. I know I hurt you, but you hurt me too, in more ways than you can imagine. Maybe that's why I'm telling you all this stuff about my life. But I'm scared, Mark. I so scared of being alone. It's taken me a long time to get over losing the only person I ever loved, and now I'm afraid that it's happing all over again. So before we go any further here, maybe we should just take some time, say some things you don't want to hear. If I told you that sometimes I get jealous, act a little crazy, would you believe me? I see you with Cedric, and…I don't know what to feel. It's like a slap in the face. Because he's a pureblood and I'm…me. I barely even know what love is, but if that's what we have then I really want to try my damndest to make it work. But I just don't know if I can. I am so afraid of losing people that it's holding me back. But I don't want to hold you back. And that's why I'm telling you to let me g- _

Jack stopped, his quill hovering over the page as something fell onto the parchment a few lines up. Jack's brows furrowed as he carefully picked up the object in his hand - a little blue bird. 

He had the overwhelming feeling that he had seen it before, but couldn't place it. But, somehow, the little bird calmed him. And he stilled. 

Jack sat there for a long while, surrounded by the snow and the sounds of the lake lapping at the shore. _And he knew what he had to do._

Jack stood, carefully placing the little bird into his pocket before wadding up the sheet of parchment, shoving it into the depths of his knapsack. 

Then he turned on his heel and sprinted back towards the castle. 

He had something to do. And if he didn’t hurry, he might never get the chance to do it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Jack skittered to a stop as he entered the Great Hall. He was out of breath, but the run was worth it. Mark was sitting at the Hufflepuff table, his elbows leaned on the top of it, Cedric next to him, saying something inaudible. 

Jack swallowed. _Hard._ It was now _or never_. 

And with that thought he began walking towards the table. Several people gawked as he walked past, but Jack was on a mission here. 

He stopped when he was directly behind Mark, clearing his throat. 

"Um, hey, Mark."

The Hufflepuff slowly turned, looking over his shoulder, his eyes wide.

_ "…" _

"I-I mean hello."

Jack stammered. 

Mark blinked twice. Cedric's posture stiffened. 

"I-I w-was…"

Jack stopped, taking a breath to calm his nerves. 

"I was wondering if I could talk to you."

Mark just stared at him for a long while before he slowly nodded and rose from the table. Cedric tried to talk him out of it, but Mark told him it was just talking, and that he had nothing left to lose. 

Jack took Mark out into the hall, finding a little outlet that sheltered them some from the prying eyes of the castle. 

_ "What do you want to talk about?" _

Mark started, his tone somewhat guarded. 

"I-I want to say I'm sorry, Mark. For lots of things. I've done a lot of stupid thing in my life, blamed myself for almost all of them, but this, right here,"

He gestured with his hand between he and Mark. 

"This is the stupidest mistake I've made."

Mark's brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something. 

"Let me finish,"

Jack interjected, holding up his hand. 

"I've had a lot of time to think about things. And I was angry, because of something I lost. _Someone_ I lost. And I've just been afraid of confronting my feelings about… _all of this_ because I'm afraid. I'm afraid of _losing you_. And I know you want to fix me, but you _can't_. I have to fix myself. And that's going to take time. _A lot of time."_

Mark looked away. 

Jack reached out and gently touched Mark's face, bringing his focus back. 

"And this hurts. It hurts _so much._ And it hurts because it _meant something_. And I-I want it to mean something again."

Jack stopped, licking his upper lip. It had taken him this long to realize this _one thought._ There was no going back. He was finally _sure._

He took a big breath in, then let it out. 

"Because _I love you."_

Mark stilled. 

_ "Y-you love me?" _

Jack nodded his head slowly. 

"I-I do. I really do. And I know it's taken me _so_ long to realize but-"

He was stopped by the sensation of the Hufflepuff's arms coming around him, pulling Jack to his chest. 

Jack sighed, melting into the touch. He buried his face against Mark's neck. He had missed this. Missed _him._

"And there's something else I wanted to tell you; yes."

Jack breathed. 

Mark pulled back some, looking into Jack's eyes, confused. 

_ "Yes, what?" _

"Yes, I will go to the ball with you."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

As the day of the ball approached, people started to get more and more jittery. The castle looked gorgeous, all frosted with ice and snow; it looked like a winter wonderland. 

Jack was nervous, though. Even after all that had happened between he and Mark just a few days ago, that didn’t mean that their relationship was instantly rekindled. 

But, after telling the Hufflepuff all of that, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of the Slytherin. 

Jack swallowed thickly, knowing he had to tell Viktor. He took a deep breath in through the nose and made his way to the Slytherin table where the Durmstrangs congregated. Jack smiled slightly at the Durmstrang, who greeted him brightly. 

It was hard, but Jack managed to get the words out, respectfully, of course, declining Viktor’s offer. 

“I-I’m sorry, but…uh…someone else asked me…”

Viktor looked disappointed, but a little smile broke across his face. 

_ “I am vlad you vwo could vork vings out.” _

Jack nodded. 

_ “Don’t think I von’t still vask vou to vance.” _

Viktor smiled. 

There was a scathing voice from a little ways down the table. 

_ “You can’t be serious! You’re telling me someone’s asked that to the ball? Not the septic, miserable mudblood?” _

Malfoy and his cronies laughed. Viktor pushed himself up from the table. 

_ “Vhat did vou say?” _

Malfoy went a satisfying shade of white and went back to his breakfast without another word. 

“Jumpy little ferret.”

Jack remarked under his breath. He thanked Viktor, apologizing once more. He shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment. 

"Can I still sit here and talk with you?"

Viktor smiled brightly, gesturing for Jack to sit. 

_ "Please." _

And so the Slytherin sat, engaging in a conversation with the Durmstrang that caused him to laugh so hard he cried. 

And for once in a very long time, Jack felt _content._

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Christmas Day finally came, much to some student’s great anticipation, and some’s utter repulsion. 

Jack was a quivering ball of nerves. Students were happily milling about the castle, exchanging gifts and chatting about the evening’s events. 

There was a group of first year girls at the back of the Gryffindor table sobbing profusely. Jack cringed and kept going. 

He stopped at the Hufflepuff table, his hands in his pockets. 

"Happy Christmas,"

He started quietly. 

Mark turned, a smile on his face, standing, going to put his arms around Jack when the Slytherin stepped back slightly. 

_ "Merry Christmas." _

He said. 

Jack offered a small smile in return. 

Inside, he was stressing. This dammed _ball_ was the source of all his problems lately. He was beginning to wonder if he should even go or not. 

Jack spent the day hanging around with Mark. He, Cedric, Mark, Hermione, Luna, and a few other students engaged in an enormous snowball fight out on the grounds. Jack got pelted in the face with a snowball, giggling madly as he fell back into the snow. 

But sooner or later the time came for everyone to part from the snowy grounds and begin to get ready for the ball. 

Jack returned to the Slytherin dormitory and carefully removed a large brown paper parcel from his trunk that Luna had given him. 

He untied the parcel and pulled back the paper. 

He examined the Ravenclaw’s handiwork, thoroughly pleased with it. 

The bile in his stomach began to churn violently as the hours ticked by. 

Jack stood, looking at his reflation. He dropped his head into his hands. 

“That it’s I’m not going!”

He flopped down face-first onto his bed. 

He heard the door open, Sebastian’s voice calling to him. 

_ “Oi, McLoughlin! Better get yer hump moving if ya don’t wanna be late!” _

Jack waved his hand limply at his roommate, telling him to go on without him. 

When the door closed, Jack moved from the bed, working out some of the wrinkles in his dress robes with the flats of his hands. 

He got down on his hands and knees, pulling a small parcel out of his trunk. He opened it carefully, emptying its contents into his hand, which he tucked away into his pocket. Then, and only then, did he stand, take one last fleeting glance in the mirror, and slowly made his way out of the common room. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….......

Jack was particularly nervous as he neared the Great Hall. There were gaggles of people peppered in nearly every nook and cranny of the castle. He swallowed thickly. Being in the limelight was not one of his fortes. 

He had gone down a flight of stairs, then up another to avoid a rather occupied-looking couple who were engaged in consuming each other’s faces. 

Soon, he neared the staircase which led down to the floor opening out to the front of the Great Hall. He saw people milling about at the bottom of the staircases. Then his eyes landed on Mark, looking handsomer than ever in sleek black dress robes with a thin cravat knotted around his neck disappearing into his waistcoat. 

He was thoroughly engaged in conversation with Cedric, and his date, Cho Chang. Jack smiled, feeling his knees go slightly weak at the sight of Mark. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed the Hufflepuff. 

That was when he saw Viktor, sweeping into the hall dressed quite dapperly with a luxurious red cape draped over his shoulder. He stepped down a bit to get a better look at things. 

Jack heard gasps, and thought they were for Hermione, who was beaming, hanging off Viktor’s arm in beautiful, flowing robes of pink. 

But, Jack realized, not soon enough, that the gasps were for _him._

All eyes were on him as he descended the staircase rather coolly. 

He shined up like a new penny. He was dressed in elegant, silky robes of midnight blue, his own tie knotted tightly and tucked into his gold-accented waistcoat. The tailcoat flapped some with a gust of wind from an outside door that had opened, and Jack felt like a film star he had seen once on a muggle billboard. 

He neared the bottom of the steps and saw Mark waiting for him, an enormous smirk plastered on his face. 

_ “You’re stunning.” _

He said.

Jack felt colour rush to his face. All eyes were on him. Girls and boys alike walked past with looks of deepest loathing at the dates of the champions. That made Jack sweat even more. 

He felt a hand on his arm. 

_ “Hey. It’s ok. Don’t focus on them, focus on me.” _

Jack took a deep breath, sighing it out as he looked over Mark. 

The Hufflepuff was the stunning one. Jack had seen him from afar, noting his lustrous dress robes, but upon closer inspection, he looked _far_ more elegant. The collar of his shirt was heavily starched and folded down at a high angle, accenting his prominent jawline. His waistcoat was emblazoned with flashes of yellow stripes along the pockets. Jack smiled at the Hufflepuff. 

“You…you look great.”

Mark puffed out his chest, adjusting the lapels of his tailcoat. 

_ “Don’t I just?” _

He replied jokingly. 

“There’s just one thing missing.”

Mark looked bemused as Jack reached into his pocket and removed something. He opened his fist, presenting the contents of his pocket to the Hufflepuff. 

There, in the middle of Jack’s palm, was a tiny blue bird. 

Mark gaped, opening his mouth, but no sound came out. 

Jack smiled, removing his snakewood wand from within his robes. He flicked it toward the bird and, in a wisp of white light, transfigured the little bird into a sprig of little blue flowers. 

Jack took another breath, replacing his wand before he placed the Forget-Me-Nots into Mark’s left lapel. 

“Now,”

Jack started quietly, so only Mark could hear.

“We’ll always remember this moment.”

_ “Jack-” _

Mark went to say something when Professor McGonagall’s voice cut him off. She informed him that the champions would be entering the hall now, and would immediately begin the first dance. 

Jack swallowed nervously as he took ahold of Mark’s arm, walking with him to the closed doors of the hall. 

Fleur was at the front, sporting some rather elegant silver robes, dangling off the arm of Ravenclaw quidditch captain Roger Davies. 

Krum and Hermione were behind them, and lastly, Mark and Jack positioned themselves at the rear of the line. 

Jack swallowed anxiously, his fingers that were wrapped around Mark’s arm began trembling. Mark covered them with his own. 

Jack was tingling with anxiety and anticipation. When those doors opened, his entire life was going to change. 

That was when the doors to the Great Hall snapped open, and the group of champions was met with an onslaught of cheering and music. 

_ "Here we go." _

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

Jack was barraged with an overstimulation of his sense as he walked with Mark into the hall. All around them people were clapping and cheering. Jack craned his neck to get a good look at the hall. It was _magnificent._ Draped in buntings and banners of shimmering silver, every inch of the hall was covered in garlands and mistletoe, with glittering frost and immaculate ice sculptures. His jaw fell open. 

Mark waved to Cedric as they passed, and the other Hufflepuff gave a loud whistle with the aid of the two fingers poised at his mouth. 

Jack recognized a lot of people as they walked passed. He saw Luna, who was smiling brightly. 

“Thank you”

He mouthed. She only smiled brighter. 

Jack resisted the urge to stick out his tongue as they passed Malfoy and his date, who looked much like a vampire with that high collar and his pasty skin. 

Jack set down his shoulder, striding elegantly on Mark’s arm. He looked like a dream, so poised and sophisticated. And those twelve o'clock blue dress robes were to _die_ for. 

The group of champions and their dates made their way into the centre of the hall, taking point in a triangular formation. Professor Flitwick raised his wand over his music stand, queuing up the orchestra. 

Mark took Jack’s waist, the Slytherin positioning his hand on Mark’s shoulder, taking the Hufflepuff’s other hand. 

The music started, the most melodious combination of strings ever heard, and they were off. 

The crowd watched adoringly, and as Jack glanced over Mark’s shoulder, he saw Professor McGonagall beaming at the two of them. 

Mark moved gracefully, moving into a box step, going at a one-two pace, spinning Jack underneath his arm. 

At a pickup in the music, he secured his hands on Jack’s waist and lifted him into the air, turning about. 

Little flakes of snow that were falling from the ceiling dusted Jack’s shoulders. 

They moved about to the music, but Jack was lost in Mark’s eyes. He moved through the motions, but was rather disconnected from them. 

But from afar, no one seemed to notice. Some of the girls giggled and “awwd” at the sight of them. 

_ “They’re so handsome,” _

One noted. 

Professor Dumbledore lead Professor McGonagall out onto the floor, and soon, several other people had made their way out onto the floor. 

Mark spun Jack around, and they floated past Krum and Hermione. Jack didn’t notice the little appreciative look that Viktor danced over him, but he caught Hermione’s eye and she smiled. 

Once the dance was over, Jack was rather out of breath. Mark grinned at him. 

The rumors that had flown about were true; _somehow_ Dumbledore had gotten the Weird Sisters for the Yule Ball. 

Jack was shocked at the amount of noise the crowd was making. He had seen something like it in the muggle world. _Now what was the word? Oh, yeah. Prom._

The band began performing a fast-paced song; “Can you do the Hippogriff?”

Jack bobbed and weaved to the music, dropping it down. He might have looked like an idiot, but he certainly was having _one hell_ of a time. 

Mark twirled the Slytherin underneath his arm. 

Jack caught a brief glimpse of Harry and Ron sitting afar at one of the many available tables with their dates, all four of them looking miserable. He wondered what was wrong, but was too preoccupied with the gorgeous Hufflepuff in front of him to care _too_ much. 

Mark said he was going to beat the rush and go grab drinks, leaving Jack dancing to the music by himself. 

But not for long. 

Hermione twirled into view, a vision in pink, and picked up Jack’s hands, dancing in the most ridiculous manner with him. She looked so… _happy._

The song ended and people whooped and clapped. 

_ “Viktor’s gone to get drinks, would you care to join us?” _

“Uh, sure. Mark’s actually somewhere over there.”

She giggled, looping her arm through Jack’s. As they walked through the crowd, several girls shot them seething glances. 

“Well, looks like you’re rather unpopular.”

Hermione giggled again. 

_ “I think more of them are jealous of you. After all, you got asked out by two champions. I’m sure if Fleur had asked they’d be ready to kill.” _

To this, Jack chortled. 

_ “But, seriously, Jack. I am so glad that things worked out between you and Mark.” _

“Well, I wouldn’t say that _everything’s_ ok now, but it’s pretty good. We’ve kinda put a plaster on it. Time heals all wounds, right?”

They arrived at the punch table and Mark held his arms out. 

_ “There’s my smokin’ hot date!” _

Jack’s cheeks rouged deeply and Hermione suppressed a snort behind her hand. 

Viktor’s eyes dashed over his body again. 

The four of them stood there drinking their punch and making conversation, the envy of the rest of the school. 

Viktor set down his crystal glass, extending his hand to Jack. 

_ “May I vave vis dance?” _

His eyes flickered to Mark. 

_ “Vith your permission, of vourse.” _

Mark gestured to the dance floor. 

_ “Be my guest. As long as I can entertain this lovely lady.” _

He offered Hermione his arm and led her to the floor. 

The song that began to play was slow.

Jack awkwardly placed his hands on Viktor’s shoulders as they began to sway. 

_ “Ve vakes you happy, no?” _

He was watching Mark and Hermione sway gracefully. 

“Yes, he does…or he _used to._ ”

Viktor looked downcast. 

“But a lot has gone on between us. And I’m not sure if things between us will ever be the same.”

_ “Vut he is vour love?” _

Jack’s lips turned up in a sad smile. 

“Sometimes love just isn’t enough.”

The song ended and Viktor stooped, taking up Jack’s hand. He slowly pressed his lips to the back of Jack’s hand and it sent shockwaves up the Slytherin’s arm. 

_ “Leka nosht, Jack.” _

Jack breathed out. He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

_ “Hey.” _

“Hey.”

He smiled at Mark, all thoughts of Viktor forgotten. But there was still this nagging feeling in the back of his brain, a question of what _exactly_ he was doing. 

But he pushed it down. _Deep_ down. 

He had better things to think of right now. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

The night wore on. Jack danced with Mark, but kept the Hufflepuff at bay. And by the end of the night, everything had slowed down, including the music, where people were mostly just swaying lazily to the music. Except for Neville, and Jack wondered where the Gryffindor was storing all of that energy. 

Mark spun him out, then back in. 

_ "Wanna get out of here?" _

Jack nodded some, walking alongside Mark out of the hall. 

They walked in silence down the corridors, passing couples taking advantage of the mistletoe, and girls shucking off their heels, crying. 

As Mark led Jack down the kitchen corridor, the Slytherin sensed that something was going to go awry. 

The Hufflepuff carefully tapped the secret code to enter the common room, the concealed door snapping open. 

Mark blushed as he turned.

_ "Do you…wanna come in?" _

Jack scuffed the bottom of his shoe against the floor. 

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 

"I-it's been a long night. I should probably turn in."

_ "Y-yeah, ok." _

Mark stepped forward, going to kiss Jack's lips. But the Slytherin turned so that the Hufflepuff's lips landed on his cheek. Jack shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation. 

_ "Goodnight." _

"Goodnight."

Mark disappeared from sight, casting one last longing look over his shoulder at Jack before the earthy door closed. 

Jack brushed the back of his hand over his cheek, still tingling. He smiled briefly, but the look melted away as he continued on his way to the Slytherin dormitory. 

Some of his fellow chamber mates were asleep, snoring slightly. Sebastian was sitting on the edge of his bed, yanking off his shoes. 

He glanced over his shoulder, some black hair falling across his face. 

He nodded to acknowledge Jack's presence, who was removing his overcoat, unknotting his tie. 

Jack plopped down on his bed, taking a breath. 

Tonight had been… _nice_ …?

Although he had enjoyed himself, Mark had been a bit…well…

Jack _loved him_ , yes he did. But that didn't mean he wanted Mark's tongue down his throat. They were just starting to put the wheels back on their cart, it wasn't time to run it down a hill. 

Things were slowly starting to piece themselves back together, and Jack was just hoping that they weren't going to fall apart. 


	7. Touch and go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second task is now upon the champions. Mark feels something unsettling beginning to build within him, like an oncoming storm. He's only just gotten Jack back...he's not about to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Shorter gap betwixt the last update and this one than before! Sorry again about that; I do my best to write and revise these chapters to give you guys THE BEST POSSIBLE STORY!!!! Really hope you guys like this one, I remember a lot of you asking about who was gonna get who as their "treasure." Hehe...I guess you'll just have to read and find out! I'd like to thank everyone for their continued support and patience with this fic. We're in the home stretch now. Thanks for all the love guys, now, without further or do, let the second task...BEGIN!! <3 PF

February proved to be surprisingly frigid. Screams of violent winds were constantly rushing past, knocking students and the contents of their bags over alike.

With only a few weeks until the twenty-fourth, Mark began to grow more and more nervous. These tasks were _extremely_ unpredictable, and he had only learned of the first one on a whim of good luck. Now, he was _highly_ certain that Jack had no knowledge whatsoever of the content of the second task.

Things between he and the Slytherin had been… _good_ lately, though Jack was still somewhat distant. Was _good_ even the right word? Just two short months ago, Jack had nearly pummeled his face in, but something had _stopped_ him. Mark had the unrelenting feeling that _something_ was troubling the Slytherin. He had said he had lost something… _someone_. And there was this constant nagging feeling pulling at Mark's gut as he wondered who that _someone_ was.

The Hufflepuff was sitting in a little alcove in the common room tossing the golden bauble he had retrieved in the first task back and forth between his hands as he gazed out the window, missing the golden glow of the sun.

_“Hey.”_

Mark looked up, seeing Cedric sit down, tucking his knees up to the woolen jumper that clothed his chest.

Cedric was staring at the egg, curious.

_“Have you figured out what it’s all about yet?”_

Mark shook his head. He was perplexed by the object.

“I haven’t even opened it yet.”

He confessed to the other Hufflepuff. Cedric’s eyes regained some of that wild sparkle Mark had seen back when he first suggested that they enter the tournament.

_“Then why don’t we open it?!”_

“I dunno,”

Mark started. But by then Cedric was pulling the egg from his arms.

_“Oh, c’mon!”_

He turned it over and over in his hands, keeping his curious grey eyes on it. He held it overhead, inspecting the bottom. Then he ran a finger along the sides. It was driving Mark mad, who reached out.

“Y-you just-”

He grunted as Cedric moved from his reach.

_“Now hang on, I can figure this out.”_

“Just turn the thing at the top!”

Mark pointed to where there was an owl head statuette fixed at the dead center of the top, and three little grooves, as if it were a lock and key mechanism.

Cedric gave him a little bit of the stink eye, annoyed that Mark didn’t let him figure it out, but he turned the head, a sharp little click emitting from the egg.

The egg snapped open, golden light emitting from it in jagged, fractured beams accompanied by a raucous, ear-bleeding screeching.

Mark and Cedric instantly cringed, covering their ears.

Penelope Clearwater, who had been sitting near the fire working on her astronomy, looked at them sharply.

Mark snapped the three sides of the egg shut, turning the statuette anti-clockwise to firmly secure the egg. He leaned back against one of the bolsters, huffing out a breath. He ran his hands through his hair.

“Well, there goes that idea.”

Cedric’s eyes were wide with both awe and surprise.

_“How is that supposed to be of any help?”_

Mark shrugged.

“Maybe I have to do something with it.”

Cedric looked puzzled.

_“It’s too bad you can’t ask anyone about it.”_

“Yeah…”

Mark replied.

He swung his legs down off the ledge, stuffing the egg down into his bag.

“I’ve got somewhere to be. I’ll see you later?”

Cedric nodded his head.

_“Save you a seat at dinner.”_

* * *

 

It wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been the past few days today, so Mark had asked him to come to the fountain in the rear courtyard.

Mark was sitting on the edge of the fountain, elbows on his knees, properly perplexed.

_“Hi.”_

He looked up, Jack standing before him.

The corners of the Slytherin’s lips twitched up. Mark just sat there, admiring him for a minute. Jack plopped down next to him.

_“Well, well. This feels oddly familiar.”_

The Slytherin had chortled some as he sat on the snow-dusted pavers that made up the lip of the fountain, fishing a transfiguration book out from the depths of his bag. The spine creaked some in protest as he flipped it open to the right page. Mark smirked some. It was _oddly_ familiar, working with Jack on transfiguration once again.

_"Blimey, it's bloody cold."_

Jack was running the flats of his hands down the front of his trousers. Mark smiled. The tips of Jack’s ears and nose were tinged a rosy pink, and he looked absolutely adorable.

They hadn’t talked much since the ball. Mark was busy with, well, _the tournament,_ and Jack had been busy with _…non-tournament_ stuff _._ He had a nasty potions essay to complete, but he _just_ managed to scrape by.

_"So, where do you want to pick back up? I know last time we were working on the Ebublio jinx, and I almost had it…"_

Mark had removed the egg from his bag, holding it in his lap. He felt a jab against his arm.

_"Are you even listening?"_

Jack had started, a bit annoyed. Then his tone softened.

_"Hey. Is everything ok?"_

Mark smiled, almost in a saddened manner.

“Ced and I were trying to figure this thing out-”

Jack took the egg from Mark, quickly examining it.

“We just couldn’t figure out what to do with it.”

The Slytherin snapped the egg open, cringing instantaneously before quickly snapping it shut.

“And then that happened.”

_“Sorry.”_

Jack started.

He slowly opened the egg again, trying to peek inside when it began its retched screaming again.

He winced again, tossing the egg at Mark.

_“Here, take this bloody thing!”_

The Hufflepuff fumbled to grab the golden bauble, but it slipped from his grasp and flew into the fountain with an audible _splash, clunk._

_“Oops.”_

They were both leaning over the edge of the fountain, Mark ready to screech that Jack had probably broke the egg when something _amazing_ happened.

As the egg descended through the half-frozen water of the fountain’s basin, it _opened._ The golden sides retracted and spread, like the petals of a flower, and a warm green light was radiating from a bubbling mass within the egg.

Mark exchanged a confounded look with the Slytherin before he reached into the frigid water of the fountain. He raised the egg up just enough to take it out of the water when it began screeching again, the fractures of light pulsing angrily.

He all but dropped it back into the water where it submerged once more, the light going soft, ebbing in little pools of greenish light, the bubbling core exposed once again.

“Jack, did you just-”

_“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to break it.”_

The Slytherin shrunk back.

“Figure it out?”

Mark finished.

_“What?”_

A wide grin broke across Mark’s face.

He quickly closed the egg before yanking it out of the water, stuffing it back into his bag.

He grabbed onto Jack’s hand.

“C’mon! I have an idea!”

_"Mark wai-"_

The Slytherin’s body visible jerked as Mark pulled him from the edge of the fountain and then rounded the corner of the corridor, disappearing from sight.

* * *

 

They both tumbled through the door into the Prefect’s bathroom, Jack dusting himself off.

_“I’ll never get used to that.”_

Mark smirked, but he was in such a hurry to see if his theory was right that he didn’t respond.

He instead ran towards the sunken bath, skittering around the edge to fiddle with the taps, filling the depression with warm, clear water.

Once there was enough water in the pool to meet his satisfaction, he ran back about the edge, dropping to his knees at the water’s edge. He began rifling through his bag, pulling the egg out.

He unlatched the top, some of its shrieking bellowing out before he dropped it into the water of the bath. As the egg began to descend, he took a big breath and stuck his head under the surface of the water.

An eerie yet melodious voice was pouring from within the bubbling centre of the egg. Mark strained to listen.

_“Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground. An hour long you’ll have to look, to recover what we took.”_

Mark would have kept his head under longer, pondering the egg’s strange message, but his body was screaming for air.

_“Mark!”_

Jack cried, rushing to his side.

_“What are you doing?!”_

Mark took several heavy, panting breaths.

“Jack…Jack you…you’re brilliant! Haha!”

He tossed his arms around the Slytherin’s neck with such force that, the other boy quite unstable on his bent ankles, toppled over and both boys went over the lip of the bath into the water.

Jack resurfaced, gasping.

_“Mark!”_

He yelled, slapping his hands against the water’s surface.

The Hufflepuff came to the surface, pushing his quaff of black hair out of his eyes.

_“You git!”_

Jack yelled.

Mark rumbled with laughter.

“C’mere! C’mere! You’ve _got_ to hear this!”

He grabbed onto the soaked sleeve of Jack’s shirt, dragging him underwater.

The Slytherin stared at the egg, captivated, as he and Mark both listened to its unnerving herald again.

Jack came to the surface, pushing his green hair out of his eyes.

_“Wow.”_

Mark smiled broadly.

“You did it Jack. You figured it out!”

Jack looked back, a small smile twitching up the edges of his lips.

Mark came closer, wading through the chest-high water.

He stopped in front of the Slytherin, slowly sliding his hand onto the other’s cheek.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out for _weeks._ ”

Jack grinned sheepishly.

_“All I did was knock it into the tarn.”_

“But you got the clue!”

_“I wonder what it means…”_

Mark took his hand off Jack’s cheek and snaked his forearm about his neck.

“There’ll be time for that later.”

He moved in closer, making to kiss the other when Jack began fidgeting.

The Slytherin blatantly rejected his advance, removing Mark's arm from around his neck.

_"Mark-I"_

"What's wrong?"

Mark's gleeful look had fallen as he stared into Jack's cool eyes.

_"Mark,_ "

Jack started again, pushing himself up over the wall of the bath.

"Yeah?"

The Hufflepuff pulled himself out of the water as well.

Jack was wringing his hands.

"What? What is it?"

_"Mark…we just…"_

He coughed, uncomfortable. Mark was toweling off his hair with one of the nearby towels. His rich eyes were imploring the other boy to tell him what was wrong.

He dropped the towel around his neck, stooping to retrieve Jack one. He handed the Slytherin the fluffy, white fabric, carefully taking hold off the other's hand. Jack jerked the appendage, trying to remove it from Mark's grasp.

"Please, Jack. Just tell me what's wrong."

Jack took the towel somewhat forcefully, huffing. He draped it around his shoulders, musing it through his hair.

_"It's just that we've only just gotten back together…and I don't want to screw this up. Please…please just don't-"_

He pulled away, curling in on himself slightly.

"O-oh…I see…"

Mark started slowly, turning away, embarrassed.

_"I-it's not that I don't want to…it's just…I-I don't think that we're ready…"_

"O-ok."

Jack huffed again, turning, dropping his hands against his thighs.

_"It not like that!"_

"Jack. Jack."

Jack was off in his own little world, babbling incoherently to himself when Mark grabbed his arm.

"Sean! I get it. It's ok, alright."

Jack's eyes locked with his own, and he instantly calmed.

_"Alright."_

* * *

 

It was only a few hours before the second task and Mark, along with several of his friends, had congregated in the library.

_“Tell me it again.”_

Hermione said, leaning back against the ledge of the shelf.

Mark sighed, banging his chin down on the thick book in front of him.

“Come. Seek. Us. Where. Our. Voices. Sound,”

_“The Black Lake, obvious.”_

“An hour long you’ll have to look.”

She rolled her eyes.

_“Obvious, again.”_

She turned to look sharply at Mark.

_“You said you had this clue figured out weeks ago!”_

Mark huffed, frustrated.

“I-I did…I-I’m just fine-tuning it, that’s all.”

_“What’s the next part, mate?”_

Cedric said from his perch on the opposite shelf, the egg between his knees.

“But past an hour, the prospect’s black,”

_“That means time’s up, right?”_

Jack interjected from his perch next to Cedric. Hermione nodded.

“Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

Hermione shrugged.

_“Whatever they’re planning on taking, past an hour, you’re not gonna get it back.”_

Mark sighed.

“I’d like to know what it is they’re taking.”

He sighed again, rubbing his brow.

_“It can’t be anything too valuable.”_

Cedric started.

A stern voice, belonging to Professor Moody, startled all of them.

_“Diggory, McLoughlin. Professor Sprout wants to see you in her office,”_

He pointed to Cedric.

_"And Professor Snape for you,"_

His index finger jutted out towards Jack.

Mark rose from his seat.

_“No, not you, Fischbach. Just Diggory and McLoughlin.”_

Mark slowly sat back into his chair, Cedric and Jack telling him they would see him at the task. But, as Jack passed, Mark suddenly gripped tightly onto his arm, his eyes wide with a terrified glean.

_"I'll be fine. I'm sure it's nothing. I'll see you later. Alright?"_

Mark nodded slowly and then Jack disappeared around one of the shelves, following Cedric.

_“Longbottom!”_

Moody barked.

_“Help Fischbach with his books.”_

Neville came scampering past Hermione at the sound of the professor’s voice, setting a heavy, 6000 page herbology volume down on the ledge.

_“_ _You know, if you're interested in plants, you should use Goshawk's Guide to Herbology. There's someone in Tibet who's growing gravity resistant trees...”_

Mark sighed.

“Neville, no offense, but I don’t really _care_ about _plants._ Not unless there’s a…Tibetan Turnip that can help me breathe underwater for an hour, then great.”

Mark sat his chin back down on his book. But, despite the comment, Neville replied brightly.

_“I don’t know about turnip, but you could always use Gillyweed.”_

Mark perked up.

“Gillyweed? Can you… _get_ me some?”

Neville nodded.

_“Sure! Professor Sprout has some in the back greenhouse. But…well…it’s in with the Tentacular leaves and…we’re not supposed to go in there without her permission.”_

Mark stood up so fast from his chair that it spun around in circles on its nut.

“Neville!”

He started, placing his hands on the Gryffindor’s shoulders.

“I’m sure if you _told_ her that this is for _me_ , she would have _no_ problem with it.”

Neville nodded vigorously.

Mark took a deep breath, looking down at his watch.

“Ok, well, I have to get going, but I’ll meet you down at the docks later, ok?”

Neville agreed to meet Mark there, noting it several times, in fact, before he hurriedly collected his copy of _Goshawk_ and rushed out of the library.

Upon watching the Gryffindor leave though, a sinking feeling began to envelop the Hufflepuff.

Mark tried to shake it off as he took the book off the ledge, holding it up so that the library’s _accio_ charm could pick it up.

Then he collected his bag and picked up the golden egg from where Cedric had left it.

He turned it over and over in his hands, looking at the etchings on the outside.

He sighed, taking a deep breath before leaving library. The conversation Hermione had struck up with him about the history of the Black Lake and what lay within it became a garbled, distant noise to Mark, who was lost in thought.

Despite all of the people wishing him good luck on his way back from the library, and flashing their _winner, winner_ badges at him, he had the undoubtable feeling that something was about to go… _wrong._

* * *

 

Mark was, with great shame he might add, reduced to a trembling ball of nerves when it was thirty minutes to show time.

He was on his way down the dock, sporting his yellow swimwear, when he heard someone call his name.

Neville came tramping down the length of the dock, nearly plowing people over.

He was out of breath by the time he stopped in front of Mark, doubling over with his hands on his knees.

“Do you have it?”

Mark asked.

Neville removed a green, gelatinous coil from his pocket, handing it over.

“And it’ll last for an hour, right?”

Neville shrugged, speaking hesitantly.

_“Most likely.”_

Mark stopped dead in his tracks.

“‘Most likely?!’”

Neville gave him a hangdog smile.

_“Well, there is some debate amongst herbologists its effects in fresh water versus saltwater.”_

“And you’re just telling me this _now_?!”

Mark hissed though his teeth.

_“I-_ ”

Neville was cut off by Professor Dumbledore hurrying along, ushering Mark into a boat.

“But, Professor,”

Dumbledore wasn’t hearing it though, and all but shoved Mark into the vessel.

Mark sighed, looking around frantically. He couldn’t find Jack or Cedric _anywhere._

“Where are you guys?”

He whispered.

* * *

 

Mark was trembling as he stood on the centre platform of the trio of towers that were anchored to the bottom of the lake.

It was cold as _fuck_ out here, and all he was wearing was a tank top and _bloody_ shorts, for Christ’s sake! Everyone else was decked out in outerwear galore.

Everyone was buzzing, an incomprehensible roar of voices rising out over the water.

Mark was still searching agitatedly for Cedric and Jack.

But his search was interrupted by Dumbledore’s voice rising above the crowd with the aid of a _sonorus_ charm.

_“Welcome to the second task. Last night, something was stolen from each of our champions. A treasure, of sorts. These three treasures, one for each champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake. In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure, and return to the surface. Simple enough.”_

Fleur, Krum, and Mark stepped up to the edge of the platform. Mark gulped as he looked down into the murky, black water.

Mark looked over his shoulder at Neville, the Hufflepuff’s face as white as a sheet. Neville made a cupping motion with his hand, bringing it to his mouth.

That was when the Hufflepuff removed the Gillyweed from within his pocket, and reluctantly swallowed it down. He recoiled, screwing up his face at the disgusting taste.

Dumbledore’s voice continued.

_“Except for this: they will have but one hour to do so, and one hour only. After that, they’ll be on their own. No magic will save them.”_

Mark began retching at the foul taste, gagging. Professor Snape, who was standing not far behind him on the platform, stalked forward and gave him a harsh slap on the back.

_“They may begin at the sound of the cannon.”_

Mark was too distracted by the prospect of throwing up to hear the cannon blast.

Fleur and Krum had already dived into the water while Mark stood there and gagged. Snape rolled his eyes, giving Mark a good push over the edge of the platform.

He was writhing in agony, clutching at his neck as the other two swam off in their own directions.

It felt like his lungs were _on fire._ He couldn’t _breathe_. Bubbles burst from his throat as he gasped and screamed for breath.

But slowly, something began to happen.

_He began to breathe._

Mark felt his neck, his fingers running over a large ridge on the side of his neck. _A gill_.

He looked down, noting how there was now webbing between his toes. And when he held his hands up in front of his face, there was webbing there, too.

_Awesome._

He began to swim deeper into the lake, passing though throngs of seaweed and kelp.

The water was cold, and dark. And Mark felt _scared._

He came to the edge of an outcrop, looking down for a moment before delving down even deeper.

He swam though schools of colourless, bland fish, rotating his head left and right, searching for this _treasure._

He came to the edge of a large kelp forest, where just beyond he recognized the voices that had come from the egg.

_Merpeople_.

He thought.

Just beyond the kelp forest, there was what appeared to be an entire _civilization_ of merpeople. Mark’s eyes widened with awe.

It was a little unnerving swimming though the dark forest all by his lonesome. Every now and again it sounded like something was gliding right past him.

This time, however, something _did_ dart right past his face, and Mark jumped back.

_Jesus._

He shook off the encounter, moving forward. He _had_ to find the treasure.

There was an _odd_ set of noises coming from beyond the forest. But they were not the noises of the merpeople.

Mark moved forward with purpose, searching for the _treasure._

And that was when he _saw it. The arch_.

The arch had _people_ suspended from it. _People_ were the _treasure_. Mark’s stomach flipped and flopped at the sight of it. He began to swim faster, wondering _who exactly_ was waiting for him.

He began to swim faster and with _drive_ through the ruins towards the arch.

And once he had neared the arch, his stomach dropped and his heart jumped up into his throat.

Suspended from tethers, floating in the open water, alone, and helpless, were _Cedric and Jack._

There was one other person, a girl, that Mark didn’t recognize.

He began to panic.

They must have been _petrified._ They weren’t moving.

They were _moaning_.

There, merpeople moved all about, watching Mark as he swam forward towards Cedric.

He put his hands on either side of his face, trying to rouse him. _No use._

He looked down the line, his eyes fixed on Jack.

He took a breath, doing a backflip to get down to Cedric’s ankle where he began vigorously unknotting the cord.

The merpeople around him screeched, starling him.

Mark’s head jerked up. Fleur came into sight, sporting a _bubblehead_ charm. She snapped the rope holding down the girl with a flick of her wand.

Looking down the line at Mark as she took the girl’s arm, she pointed to the watch on her wrist. Mark nodded, understanding.

Fleur and the girl disappeared.

Mark took his wand from the sheath on his calf, raising it at Jack’s tether when a merperson came forward, thrusting her trident into his throat. More began to swarm about him.

“But he’s my friend too!”

He protested.

The merperson hissed.

_“Agh! Only one!”_

She gave him a defiant look before swimming off.

Mark took a breath. _Ok, he just need to choose, that was all. Easy._

_Choose between his best friend and the boy he loved._

_Ok, maybe not so easy._

That was when he heard a noise, not the moans of Cedric and Jack, or the eerie trills of the merpeople, but a sound that was almost like a growl.

Mark was just barely able to dart out of the way before a shark came barreling towards him.

_What?!_

The Hufflepuff stared, soon realizing that it wasn’t a _shark_ ; it was _Krum_ transfigured _into_ a shark.

The Durmstrang swam past him, diving down towards Jack’s lead, when something began to happen.

It was almost like the spell was… _failing_.

Krum began to struggle, thrashing back and forth, grabbing at his neck. The spell was wearing off, and _quickly_ at that. The shark’s form began to fade away and Krum’s form slowly reappeared.

Bubbles burst from his throat as he struggled to breathe, and his terrified eyes fixed on Mark. He reached out towards Jack’s lead, but more bubbles trailed from his mouth.

Krum turned, kicking up towards the surface, swimming away from the task. _And from Jack._

Mark watched Krum swim away, a fire boiling in his belly.

_He couldn’t believe this._

His eyes darted back and forth between Cedric and Jack.

He knew what he had to do.

With one arm, he laced it around Cedric’s, struggling against the water.

With the other, he raised his wand at Jack’s tether, glancing around for the merpeople.

_Fuck it._

He thought, and aimed the wand once more. A rush of red sparks burst from the tip of his wand as the _relashio_ spell shot forth.

With one arm around Cedric and the other around Jack, Mark kicked towards the surface, beginning his long ascent.

As he began to move away from the arch and up towards the surface, something began to _change._ He looked down at his hands, seeing the webbing vanishing right before his eyes. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe as his gills receded.

That was when something grabbed onto his ankle and Mark cried out in surprise.

All about his feet, coming crawling from the depths of the lake, were _grindylows._

Foul little water daemons. They mustn't have been happy that Mark was taking _two_ treasures instead of _one._

They swarmed him, grabbing at and biting his legs. There was _no way_ he could make it back to the surface like this.

His eyes went between Cedric and Jack.

He released his hold on their arms, using all of his strength to push them towards the surface.

The gills receding left aching clusters of searing hot pain up and down his neck and Mark grabbed at the injury.

The grindylows swarmed him en masse, dragging him down further towards the bottom of the lake.

His oxygen levels were going down. He couldn’t breathe.

That was when he lashed out his wand, _stupefy_ emitting from the tip of his wand in a bright red burst.

The grindylows were stunned for only a moment, suspended, animated in the murky water, before growling and retreating.

Mark cast his eyes up towards the surface of the water, only hoping that Cedric and Jack had made it there

* * *

Exactly as the clock stuck twelve noon, two figures burst from the waves of the water.

Cedric took a gasping breath, looking at Jack who was coughing and struggling to breathe.

The Hufflepuff had placed his hand on the Slytherin’s back, both of them swimming towards the ladder where Hermione was crouched down, holding out her hand, worry written all across her face.

There was no sign of Mark.

Everyone looked out over the water for a sign of him.

That was when there was a sudden burst from the waves, and a figure shot forward, expelled from the water, landing roughly on the platform.

_“Mark!”_

Dumbledore cried, rushing forward.

Hogwarts students rushed to wrap Mark in towels as the Hufflepuff gagged and spat up water.

_“He’s alright. He’s alright. Barty! I want all of the judges over here now!”_

Mark sat there, shuddering, as someone ordered for another towel to be brought over.

_“Mark!”_

Cedric came running into his line of sight. He knelt down, throwing his towel around the other Hufflepuff’s shoulders.

“Cedric, ow!”

_“You must be freezing!”_

Mark was wiping water dripping from his bangs with the edge of the towel.

"Jack! Jack!"

He called, pushing aside someone who had come over with another towel.

He struggled to get to his feet, wrapping the towel tighter around his body.

"Jack!"

That was when he looked across the way and saw the Slytherin, wrapped in a red towel bearing the Durmstrang crest. Krum was crouched in front of him. Mark growled in the back of his throat, quickening his pace.

"Jack!"

The Slytherin was shaking, looking up with terrified blue eyes. He whimpered some, edging away from Viktor, who had extended a hand towards Jack's cheek.

_"Mark!"_

Jack cried.

"Oh, shh, shh. You must be frozen down to the bone!"

Mark took one of the towels from around his shoulders and wrapped it around the quaking Slytherin. He pushed some of Jack's drenched bangs out of his eyes.

"Thank god you're ok. You're ok…"

Jack was whimpering, cowering into the towels. All around them, Durmstrang students were murmuring in their foreign tongue. Viktor took a gasping breath, extending his quivering hand to Mark.

_"You…you vaved him. Even though ve vasn't yours to vave. Thank you."_

Mark's eyes narrowed some before he took Viktor's hand rather roughly.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Jack. Since _you left him_ down there."

Viktor looked sullied, his eyes adverting.

_"Jack,"_

He started, reaching for the Slytherin. But Jack cowered away, seemingly terrified of the Durmstrang.

Instead, Jack turned away, lacing his arms around Mark's bare neck, shivering.

"Shh,"

Mark soothed, rubbing through the towels into Jack's back, between his shoulder blades.

Viktor's brows drew together. Karkaroff appeared, obviously angered. He knelt by Viktor, yelling at the boy in the foreign tongue.

He gestured shortly between Viktor and Jack.

Mark's expression changed, his brows drawn together, eyes narrowed into slits.

He pulled Jack closer, pushing up with his knees, feeling the Slytherin's legs loop around him.

Mark turned and walked back to the other side of the platform, where he was greeted by cheering hordes of Hogwarts students.

Carefully, he set Jack down, who was still coughing and sputtering. Hermione came running with a stack of dry towels. Mark eagerly took them, shucking off the sopping wet Durmstrang ones, wrapping the new ones around Jack. He rubbed up and down the other's arms.

"Jack,"

He said, looking into the other boy's eyes.

Jack scooted closer, wrapping his arms back around the Hufflepuff.

_"I was so scared, Mark. So scared."_

He whispered breathlessly into the Hufflepuff's hair.

"It's ok,"

Mark breathed back.

"It's ok. I've got you."

There was a roar of clapping and cheering so loud that Dumbledore had to using an amplifying charm to be heard.

_“Attention!”_

It was so loud that everyone cringed, covering their ears.

_“The winner is…Miss Delacour! Who showed unique command of the bubblehead charm. However, seeing as how Mister Fischbach would have finished first, had it not been for his determination to rescue not only Mister Diggory, but Mister McLoughlin as well, we’ve agreed to award him…second place! For outstanding moral fiber!”_

There was an onslaught of cheering from the Hogwarts students, Hermione squealing, rubbing Mark’s arm.

But Mark barely acknowledged the achievement, his eyes fixed upon Jack, who was still coughing.

"I've got you…and I'm never gonna let you go."


	8. Notice of hiatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note to readers

Notice of hiatus: Dear readers, I felt as if I should post this here to let you all know what is going on. I was so pleasantly surprised when so much love was being sent my way after the writing of my first three Septiplier has come to Hogwarts fics. However, I, with much regret, have to say I find working on Feel Again has been most overwhelming. I am trying to appease everyone with this story but it has been very difficult. I have lost my direction for this story, which has discouraged me. I had so many hopes and ideas for this fic when I started out. Now though I find that the words just won’t come to me and I spend hours staring at an empty page. I know some of you will be disappointed seeing that this isn’t an update and I know it has been quite some time since I did update this story. However, I am not abandoning this story. I cannot. I will finish it someday. But that day is not today. I ask readers to please respect that as well as my privacy. This has been a very difficult period in my life for me and writing has served as a therapeutic outlet. But writing carries its own stress as well as difficulties. I find it bittersweet writing these words but I want all of you reading this to know that I will finish this story someday. Until then, Mark and Sean’s adventure at Hogwarts awaits. Thank you for taking the time to read this note. Much love and gratitude, The Pink Fizz


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